


Coulson Squared

by dumbledavisjr



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Dad Phil Coulson, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-16
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2019-10-29 11:51:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 26,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17807477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dumbledavisjr/pseuds/dumbledavisjr
Summary: You are Phil Coulson's only daughter, as well as a level seven SHIELD agent. He's recruited you as a member of his new team of trusted agents.





	1. Prologue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shortly after Phil's resurrection, he's sent on his first, and arguably most important mission

That's right, this was your seventh assignment in three weeks. That was the equivalent of a new assignment every three days. Everyone outside of the situation told you that Fury was overworking you, and that you should be taking your time to move on.

"It's not healthy," one fellow agent might tell you.

"A lot of the stuff I do isn't healthy," you'd retort tersely. Then, you'd walk away, trying your best to be alone.

The truth was, Fury himself told you that you shouldn't have been doing what you were. You were requesting assignment after assignment in order to distract yourself. You didn't want to think about what had happened almost a month ago on that helicarrier, when you had heard the four words that you had feared for years: "Agent Coulson is down."

The night after that marked the first time you had cried in years. Coulson was the only part of your family you had left, as your father, and now that he was gone, you were really alone. That seemed reason enough to cry to you, and you truly despised crying.

You weren't the most social of people, and you didn't ever feel the need to make friends. When you said that you had no one, you really didn't. Though there was a large crowd at your father's funeral, none, save a few generally concerned individuals said anything to you. None offered friendship or a shoulder to cry on--though you wouldn't have taken the latter--just their sincerest condolences.

You limited your conversations with Director Fury to strictly SHIELD business. Maybe he would have tried to help you, but you shut down his every attempt to turn a conversation elsewhere.

"(Y/N), how about you take some time off instead of taking another assignment?" he'd suggested the day before.

"I'm going to have to respectfully decline your generous offer, Director," you gave your rehearsed reply. "I think it's best that I keep doing what I pledged to do when I joined SHIELD."

"What, run yourself down into exhaustion? That's not what you pledged to do. And when you do, what then, Coulson?"

You flinched at the sound of your last name. "I do what my dad would do."

"And that is?"

You looked directly into his eye and spoke quietly, yet clearly, "I just keep going."

Today, you were at an airport in the Midwest waiting out a layover. You were supposed to arrive at a SHIELD safe house in Alaska late that night in order to observe some supposedly magical moving island that was loaded with treasure.

Sunlight flooded the airport through the large windows, creating a happy, excited feeling in the air. You ignored that like a champ, sitting on a bench and glaring daggers at the gigantic American flag on the wall. The world was a visibly darker place without Phil Coulson, to you, anyway.

A man noticed your state and approached you. "Something the matter?" the stranger asked you, sitting down next to you on the bench.

You avoided looking at him, and replied, "No, everything is just perfect. Life's good and all that."

"Oh, I can tell. You feel like talking about it?"

"You're a stranger. I don't feel like talking to you about anything."

"I wouldn't say that we're strangers," he said. "We've met before."

"Have we? How?"

"SHIELD."

"Ah. That would explain it." You took a quick glance over at him, taking in his general appearance. He wore a black jacket and sweatpants with a heather gray painting shirt with gray running shoes. His hood was up so that you couldn't see his face, but otherwise, he didn't look like a SHIELD agent. "Undercover agent or a run-in?"

"I wouldn't say that I'm exactly undercover, but I am an agent. I'm more...on break, you might say. But now that we're a little more aquatinted with each other, do you want to talk about something? I gather that you'll be waiting a little while for your plane."

You sighed. "I guess it's probably a good idea to get this off of my chest, if even just a little bit." The man next to you waited patiently for you to go on. "My father was an agent of SHIELD, a pretty proud one at that."

"Was?"

"Yeah, was. He was so happy all the time. He loved his job so much. And then--"

"He was killed in the line of duty, wasn't he?"

You went quiet for a second. "Yeah," was all you could think to say.

"How long has it been?" he prodded after a moment of silence.

"A little over three weeks."

"Are you going back to work now, then? I'm surprised that you took just three weeks to settle yourself. Trying to get over the death of your father--" he paused to clear his throat as his voice escalated in pitch. He was becoming emotional himself. "Well, ah, it's not a quick or easy process. It's been most of my life for me, and I have times where I still haven't fully healed."

"I'm so sorry. I know how hard it is, and no, it's not an easy thing at all. But I'm not going back to work. I've been working this whole time."

"What?! Agent, you should have taken time to--"

"I know, I know; I've heard it a hundred times before from other agents and even Fury, but it's the only thing that's been keeping me going lately," you confessed. "I worked for SHIELD before, but now it's different. I guess it makes me feel closer to him, now that he's gone. It probably seems silly."

"No, it doesn't. It makes perfect sense. You're doing what he did, and it makes you feel better," he explained in his own words. Neither of you said anything for a few minutes. He didn't know what to say, and you didn't have anything to say.

"Who cares anymore?" you finally asked rhetorically. You smiled and laughed just a little bit. Your new...friend seemed shocked at the change in your mood. "I mean, I certainly don't. My own life isn't important to me. I sound crazy, and I probably am, but the lives of normal people matter more to me than mine."

"Listen, (Y/N)--

"I never told you my name," you snapped suddenly.

"I, uh..."

"If you had known me, you would have known who my father was and that he died," you stopped him again. "So you can drop the act that we're barely acquaintances and tell me who you are right now."

"Oh, dear," he sighed. He took a small device from his face but didn't lower his hood yet. "I guess I just blew the whole surprise thing I planned out."

Your mouth dropped open. That voice--it was impossible for anyone to be hearing it anymore. The man bearing that voice had died three and a half weeks ago. Yet, you were hearing it now, which could only mean one thing.

"Sorry that I took so long to get back," he said, lowering his hood and turning to look at you.

Your eyes burned with tears, but none fell. "No need to apologize. I didn't even know you were coming back." You took a sharply breath and launched yourself onto your father. You hugged him so tightly that you probably strained something. "How? How is this even possible?" you asked him, a teardrop escaping your eye and soaking into his soft jacket.

"I don't know sweetheart, but it doesn't really matter. What does matter," he began, holding you at arm's length, "is that I care. I care about your life, and you should, too." He brought you back in for another tight embrace.

"I lost you, and I just couldn't handle it. I had no one to turn to. But you're back now, so--"

The intercom system turned on, and a woman announced a few flights and their corresponding gates.. You checked your ticket, and found that one was yours.

"Oh, I, uh, I have to go now," you said.

"The ticket's fake," the elder Agent Coulson told you. "The whole purpose of this little trip Fury sent you on was to get us together again."

"That sneaky little turd," you cursed him under your breath.

"Watch it, (Y/N), he probably heard that."

"Well, he can hear it again! What the heck, Fury, Nicholas J.?"

"It's good to see that you're back to yourself, kiddo," he chuckled. "I have real tickets of my own here. Two for California and another two for Disneyland. What do you say?"

"Dad, are you still beating yourself up for the time like 10 years ago that you got called on an emergency mission--"

"The day we were supposed to leave for Disneyland? Yes. But we get a chance now. Take it or leave it, (N/N)."

You rolled your eyes with a smile, stood up from the bench, then helped your father up. "I'd be a fool to leave it." He pulled you into a side-hug and the two of you walked to your gate.  
\--  
Maria Hill watched the exchange from afar with a contented grin on her face. She pulled her phone from her pocket and dialed Fury.

"Mission accomplished. The Coulson's are reunited," she reported.

"Good. I hate to see a spunky kid like (Y/N) so down."

"One more thing, sir. (Y/N) would like you to know that you, in her exact words, are a sneaky little turd."

Fury just laughed. "I didn't expect anything else from her."


	2. In the Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Begin Season 1, Episode 1

"Agent Hill, Agent Coulson," the male agent acknowledged the two of you as he sat down. You smiled politely, but Maria got right to business.

"What does SHIELD stand for?" she asked the man.

"Maria, really? Even I can't remember the whole thing half the time," you complained.

"Shut up, Coulson. You know exactly why I do this," she said. "Now, Agent Ward, what does it stand for?"

"Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division," he answered, a lot less like a robot than you'd ever seen him before.

"And what does that mean to you?" Hill continued. She loved that question. So did your father. Collecting individual perceptions of the title of the organization fascinated them. You thought it was interesting, at the very least.

"It means someone really wanted our initials to spell SHIELD," he responded.

You laughed. "You're not wrong," you commented. Maria shot you a death glare. "Oh, come on, 'Ria. You have to admit that that is a very Howard Stark-ish thing to do."

"Like I said, shut up, Agent Coulson. Continue, Agent Ward," she ordered.

"It means we're the line between the world and the much weirder world," he explained. "We protect people from news they aren't ready to hear. And when we can't do that, we keep them safe. Something turns up," he said, pulling a piece of alien tech out of a small black bag, and sliding it across the table to the two of you, "like this Chitauri neural link--we get to it before someone bad does."

You clapped. "Beautiful," you commended, wiping a pretend tear from your eye.

Maria stood up and placed the link in a box provided to her by another agent. "Once again, shut up, (Y/N). Remind me why you're in here, again?" You took a breath to explain that she did, in fact, ask you to do this with her, but she stopped you. "Not really. Agent Ward, do you have any idea who Vanchat was planning to sell the link to?"

He shook his head. "I'm more interested in how this Rising Tide group found out about it. I thought they were just hackers. What changed?"

"Everything's changing," Maria shrugged. "A little while ago, most people went to bed thinking that the craziest thing in the world was a billionaire in a flying metal suit. Then aliens invaded New York and were beaten back by, among others, a giant green monster, a costumed hero from the '40s, and a god."

"Don't forget our favorite archer and ginger ninja," you added.

"Your favorite," Maria corrected.

"I don't think Thor's technically a god," Agent Ward said before you could strike back at Agent Hill.

"Well, you haven't been near his arms," Hill said.

"Ooh, Maria!" you shouted. "Some little agent's got a crush, and I think her initials are--"

"For the fifth time, (Y/N), shut up before I make you."

You counted on your fingers the number of times she had told you to shut up. You came up one short of five. "Fourth. For the fourth time," you corrected her.

Maria elected to ignore you. She instead focused all of her attention on Ward. "The battle of New York was the end of the world. This now is the new world. People are different. They have access to tech, to formulas, secrets they're not ready for," she said.

"Why was I pulled out of Paris?" Ward asked.

"That, you'll have to ask Agent Coulson."

Ward looked at you expectantly, then you realized that he wasn't aware that you weren't the only living Agent Coulson. "O-oh, not me," you said, raising your hands like you were surrendering.

"Uh, yeah. I'm clearance level six. I know that Agent Coulson was killed in action before the battle of New York. Got the full report. I'm sorry about that, by the way."

You smiled. "Eh, I've gotten over it."

"Welcome to level seven," Agent Phil Coulson stated, stepping into the light from a dark hallway. Ward stood up in shock. "Sorry, that corner was really dark, I couldn't help myself. I think there's a bulb out."

"Smooth, dad, smooth," you smirked. "It's almost like you plan these things."

"Dramatic entrance, yes. That's a Coulson trait; you get that from me. Little events that aid in dramatic entrance, not exactly."

The four of you walked out of Maria's office and down the hall towards an elevator. Ward was still too surprised to say anything, but that was okay. You and your father conversed happily, leaving Hill and Ward to listen in and occasionally facepalm. The sass and the bad puns of Coulson Squared were truly something else.

"So let me get this straight," Ward spoke up as the elevator doors opened. "Director Fury faked your death to motivate the Avengers."

"Well, the death of a common ally is a particularly effective team builder," Maria pointed out. You all stopped to get you ID's checked by a computer before you entered a room.

"Plus, it wasn't that much of a stretch," your father added. "I stopped breathing for about 40 seconds."

"Eight," Maria interjected. "It gets longer every time you tell it."

"It's part of the dramatic entrance gene," you said.

"Yeah, well, you get shanked by the Asgardian Mussolini, you can tell it your way. I was looking at the big white light, And it felt like a lot longer than eight seconds."

"Do they know? The Avengers? Or did Fury play them?"

"They're not level seven," Maria summed up.

"Romanoff is. Cap is. Barton is. But I mean, Fury didn't even tell me right away. I didn't know for almost a month, and he only let me know because I was about to work myself to death," you said, mostly for Ward's benefit.

"But you're level seven," he said incredulously.

"Heck if level really matters to Fury. He probably wouldn't have done anything if he didn't think it would have any effect."

"I'm still a little ticked about that myself, (Y/N). I don't know what he was thinking there," he sighed. "All I know is that I got out of the ICU, and he stuck me in a grass shack in Tahiti. Rough gig. Mai tais, Travis McGee novels, and a physical therapist whose command of English was irrelevant."

"But something put you back in the game." He stopped, looking at a video clip of a man jumping from a building and sticking the landing from several stories up playing on a screen. "What is that?"

"That's a superhero, Agent Ward," Coulson the Elder stated.

"An unregistered gifted. Identity unknown," Hill continued.

More files popped up, audio of a Rising Tide woman speaking about SHIELD playing.

"Another little present from the Rising Tide." Both Coulsons internally groaned.

"I'm so sick of these guys trying to further break a broken world," you ranted quietly, raising a hand to the side of your head.

"How are they getting this stuff before us?" Ward questioned, gesturing to the screen.

"Same way they cracked our RSA implementation," your father shrugged. "They're good. So I need better." He began to circle around, and you followed him.

"Agent Coulson has requisitioned a mobile command unit, to which you two are assigned," Maria elucidated.

"I'm so freaking excited for this," you grinned.

"Rising Tide is trying to draw us out. I think it's time they succeeded," your dad went on.

"You want me to cross them off?" Ward looked around like he was receiving a top secret assassination mission in a public place. Which, you know, he thought he was.

"Wow," the man chuckled a bit, looking at you and Maria, who knew better for predicting Phil Coulson's ideals. "Ah, no. I want to use them to get to him. This man's world is about to get very weird. He's gonna need some help."

"I'm sorry. I was trained from day one as a specialist. I go in alone. I get it done. Defusing a nuclear bomb? I'm your guy. A welcoming committee?" He sucked in some air before going on. "Not my speed."

"I know it's not what you want. Agent Hill did a very detailed assessment of your last three missions. Combat--top grades. Espionage--she gave you the highest marks since Romanoff. Under "people skills," she drew a--look at this, (Y/N)--I think it's a little poop with knives sticking out of it." You both giggled about it together.

"What?" Ward exclaimed, looking himself.

"Forget SHIELD agent, 'Ria, I think you have talent as an artist," you praised falsely.

"For the actual fifth time today, shut up, (Y/N)."

"That's bad, right?" You nodded, in agreement with your father. "And given your family history, I'm surprised it's not worse. But I think you're the guy for this."

"So do I," you told him.

"We're meeting now. If I'm wrong, you go straight back to your bombs," the level eight promised the level seven.

"Team's approved," a SHIELD doctor proclaimed upon walking into the room. "Physicals are all fine. Fitz-Simmons is not cleared for combat. I'm told that won't be an issue. Agent Ward here, he's almost too fit."

Ward saw his chance and jumped for it. "That's an issue. That should be an issue. Maybe I can't join the team because my--"

"Gosh, you are dismissed," Maria groaned.

"Nice try, bud," you consoled him. "I'll look forward to working with you in the future," you called after him as he stormed out.

Maria turned to you and your father. "It was a porcupine. It was not a poop." The two of you began cracking up again. "It just means that he--"

"No, I'm pretty sure," your father said, a twinkle in his eye.

"'Ria, honey, that definitely looked like a poop."

"And it's not just Ward," she raised her voice over you. "Your whole roster is sketchy."

You clapped a hand to your chest. "Wow, thanks for the vote of confidence, Hill."

"You're the sketchiest of them all," she glared. You winked back at her.

"Well, they're cleared," Phil defended.

"I would have been very happy not to clear you, Phil," the doctor said sternly. "I'd love for you to rest up some more."

"I've had plenty of that. Thanks," he gave a polite smile.

Maria placed herself so as to look your father right in the eyes. "You sure?" she asked.

He didn't answer the question. Instead, he replied, "You should go sometime."

"Where?"

"Tahiti. It's a magical place. In fact, (Y/N), you and I should go sometime."

"We literally just got back from Disneyland. I think we're okay for a while," you returned.

"Yeah, besides," Maria started, "three days in, I'd be begging for an assignment."

"Exactly," he said. The two of you walked away, heading to meet your new teammates.


	3. Pilot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The squad meets for the first time

You walked into the room by the side of your father with one goal--sway Melinda May into joining your crew. Before Bahrain, she and her husband had watched you when your dad was on assignment, but that was at least six years ago. You had only been 15 then, and hadn't seen her since. You had never been sure if she liked you or not.

"Agent May," Phil greeted the woman.

She looked up in surprise. "No," she stopped him before he could even ask the question.

"Told you," you nudged your father.

"So you've been briefed," he ignored you.

"I'm not going back in the field," she said further.

"Nice to see you, too, Mindy," you grinned.

"Don't call me that," she warned.

"You've got such a nice setup here," Phil joked. "You ever thought about adding a moat?"

"No, it would just lessen the unapproachability she's got going on. Nothing is more daunting than a wall of filing boxes," you noted.

May gave the two of you a look that clearly said, "What do you want?"

"I just need you to drive the bus," he explained. "Liaise ground transpo, some on-site supervision. This isn't a combat op."

"Yeah, just non-stop partying," you added.

May sighed, getting back to her paperwork. "Then you don't need me," she stated, stapling a packet.

"I do," he said. "'Cause we'll be running ourselves. Picking the ops, making the calls."

"And it's gonna be awesome," you interjected.

Phil nodded. "No red tape. This is where they actually make the red tape, isn't it? I always wondered."

"Wait, Dad, you didn't know this was here? I mean, I did, but ah..."

May smiled, and turned her attention away from you.

"Melinda."

"You're really just asking me to drive the bus?" she clarified.

"I'm not asking. But it's a really nice bus."

"It is! Oh my gosh, you're going to love it," you gushed.

\--

You'd seen the plane before, but it still amazed you every time you saw it. You had already set up your bunk and were currently enjoying watching Leo Fitz and Jemma Simmons argue while they set up their lab.

Jemma picked up a specialized gun, and Fitz reacted immediately. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa! Watch it! That's the night-night gun."

You snickered to yourself. "Night-night gun?"

"Well, it's on my stuff, and it doesn't work," Simmons countered, "and there's no way we're calling it the night-night gun."

"The bullets work. Nonlethal, heavy stopping power, Break up under the subcutaneous tissue ."

"Oh, with a dose of only .1 microliters of dendrotoxin. I'm not Hermione. I can't create instant paralysis with that. You should have run the specs by me before building the molds."

"The bullets are hollow. It's a marvel I can keep them from breaking apart in the chamber."

"Or used a higher-caliber round. Or read a book. It's not particularly difficult."

"Have you ever heard of physics or--what's the other one? Inertia?"

Agent Ward dropped his bag, and the sound it made was loud enough to catch the attention of the arguing scientists. "Fitz-Simmons?" he asked.

"Fitz," Simmons introduced her partner.

"Simmons. I'm engineering. She's biochem. Agent Ward?" Fitz asked.

"And (Y/N)," you announced from your position on the sidelines.

"I already met you," Ward replied. "Coulson--Older Coulson--said I'd need my comm receiver encoded. Don't know if you've worked with that model before. It's--" he was cut off by Fitz smashing his comm. "Brand-new."

"He'll repurpose the IDIS Chip," Simmons explained.

"Don't need the external receiver for the inner-ear comms anymore," Fitz went on.

"The new ones are cooler anyway," you shrugged.

"So, uh, how does it--" Simmons suddenly attacked him with a cotton swab to Ward's mouth.

"Embedded sensorineural silicone matched to your DNA. It's very posh," she said, examining the swab. "So, are you excited to be coming on our journey into mystery?"

"It's like Christmas," he responded.

"The sarcasm is strong with this one," you commented.

Your dad then pulled up to the ramp in his bright red car. You'd had a running joke with him for a while now that the car was your older sister with how much he cared for her.

"One of Coulson's old SHIELD Collectibles. Flamethrowers, world's first GPS," Fitz listed to Ward. "He's mad for this crap."

"She's not crap. She's art," you told Fitz.

"Don't touch Lola," Phil stopped an agent.

"And he calls it a girl's name." Fitz smacked Ward's back, then went back to the lab, laughing to himself.

"Don't insult the car!" you called back to him as you followed your father and Ward up the stairs.

"Lola's not just a collectible, you know," the older Coulson informed Ward. "People tend to confuse the words 'new' and 'improved.' This mobile command, they were in heavy rotation back in the '90s, but then we got a helicarrier."

"It's a little old, but it's great. It feels like home already, wouldn't you say, Dad?"

"You bet. This is going to be fun. Hey, Ward. Did you hear the one about the guy who's afraid of flying?" Phil grinned.

"I've done a night jump into a drop zone under heavy fire, sir. I can handle it," Ward told him. You face-palmed.

"That was a joke. The first part of a--" he sighed. "I'm not gonna tell it now."

"Oh, but it's a good one! Come on! Just because the stick-up-his-butt specialist here is stiff and humorless doesn't mean everyone is!" you complained.

"Hey! I am not stiff and--" you cut him off with an extremely skeptical look.

May entered the room, looking better and more in her element than she did in that office. "If you plan to unpack, make it quick. Wheels are up in five. We may have a hit on one of the Rising Tide's routing points," she said, handing a white binder to your dad.

"Good. We need to do some catching up."

May nodded and went back to the cockpit.

"It was nice talking to you, May," you called after her. You could have sworn that you saw a hint of a smile on her face as she turned to walk out.

"Is that who I think it is?" Ward asked incredulously.

"She's just the pilot," Phil shrugged.

"Melinda May is 'just the pilot.'"

"That's what he said," you chuckled. "I don't think she will be for long."

"Come on, sir," Ward goaded. "What game are you really playing?"

He didn't answer. "Better stow your gear," he advised instead.

"Yeah, May's a bit of a wild flyer," you said.

"I heard that!" she yelled back to you.

"Hey, don't you say anything about my first time flying!"


	4. Enter the Asset

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last, unexpected member of the squad shows up

"How will you come at us?" the girl in her van said. You had gathered that she was recording a new something-or-other for the Rising Tide, obviously meant for the people that were standing outside. You were halfway between impressed and amused with the fervor in which she spoke.

"From the air?" she continued. "From the ground? How will you silence us this time? How can you? The truth is in the wind. It's everywhere. You cannot stop The Rising Tide. You will not find us. You will never see our faces. But rest assured We will rise against those who shield us from the truth. And nothing--nothing!--can stop us in the--" Agent Ward had had enough, and slammed open the door, catching her red-handed.

"Hey," she greeted the three of you uneasily. "What up?"

Ward forced a bag over her head before she could do anything else. She tried to resist, but after he threatened her, she made the smart decision and stayed quiet. Ward drove the dinky van back to the plane, where she continued to struggle until you sat her down in the dimly lit interrogation room.

"You guys are making a big mistake," she said as the bag was lifted from her head. Her hair was kind of a mess.

"You don't look that big," Ward commented.

"Hey, uh, sweetheart? Your hair is, well," you exchanged glances with your father. "It's been compromised, so to say."

"No thanks to you," she mumbled, trying to fix it.

"Sorry for the lack of finesse," Phil apologized. "Agent Ward here has had a little history with your group--The Rising Tide."

She tried to play it off. "I don't know what you're--"

"Okay, there are two ways we can do this," Ward interrupted her.

"Oh," she smirked. "Is one of them the easy way?"

"No," he stated.

"Oh."

"What's your name?" Phil asked.

She waited a moment before answering reluctantly, "Skye."

"Skye," you repeated. "I like that. It's a nice cover name."

"What's your real name?" Ward questioned, placing a lot of emphasis on 'real'.

"That can wait. It's another name we need--a certain hero," Coulson the Elder hinted.

"What makes you think I know that?" This chick was a terrible liar.

"Well, you made a little mistake. The phone you filmed the hooded hero with had the same cryptographic signature as a few of The Rising Tide posts," he pointed out.

"It's okay, 'Skye'," you comforted her, putting air quotes around 'Skye'. "It happens to the best of us."

"Wow," she muttered. "Yeah. Was that a mistake? Or am I now sitting In the center of your secret headquarters? What is this?" She looked around the room, as if it would help her identify what she was inside of. "A plane?"

"Good guess," you nodded quietly.

"I got inside. And by now, you've discovered you can't beat the encryption on my equipment, so," she shrugged, "you got nothing."

"We have a fairly strong coincidence--you being on the scene right before it went up in flames," Phil pointed out. "Want to tell me what my team is gonna find out? How did you know the hooded man was in the building?"

"Did you blow it up to draw him out?" Ward inquired threateningly.

"Did you?" she returned quickly.

"That's not our style," your father disagreed.

"I was just kidnapped by your 'style'," she argued.

"She's got a point," you said.

"SHIELD covered up New Mexico, Project Pegasus," Skye accused. "Of course you'd be covering up Centipede."

The three of you exchanged glances. "Centipede?" Ward mouthed. You put your hands up, as if to say, "Don't ask me."

"Holy no way," Skye smiled. "You don't know what that is. Billions of dollars of equipment at your disposal, and I beat you with a laptop that I won in a bet?"

"You need to think about your friend," Phil redirected. "We're not the only ones interested in people with powers. We'd like to contain him, yeah. The next guy will want to exploit him, and the guy after that will want to dissect him."

"That won't be pretty," you grimaced.

Ward put his hands on the desk and got down to Skye's level. "What is Centipede?"

She sighed. "It's hard to explain."

"We got time," you responded.

She sighed again then stood up. "Centipede. There was chatter on the web, and then, gone. I traced the access-point mac address to that building."

"What were you after?" Ward asked her, taking her seat.

She turned quickly to face him. "The truth. What are you after?"

"Honor," you interjected.

"World peace," Ward suggested instead.

"You pseudo-anarchist hacker types love to stir things up," he explained, standing. Skye gave him a slightly offended look, and he began to advance on her. "But you're never around for the fallout. People keep secrets for a reason, Skye."

"Well, just because you're reasonable and--" she poked his chest-- "firm doesn't mean that you're not an evil, faceless government tool bag."

"Oh, yeah, that hurts, kid, that hurts real bad," you shook your head.

Skye looked you up and down. "You're calling me a kid?"

"Just give us your guy's name," Ward groaned.

"He's not my guy!" she exclaimed.

"You understand he's in danger," your father reminded.

"Then let me go," she pleaded. "Let me talk to him. Me, not the T-1000 here," she gestured to Ward.

"You want to be alone with him. Of course," he sighed. "She's a groupie. All this hacking into SHIELD, tracking powers; she might as well be one of those sweaty cosplay girls crowding around Stark tower."

"What?! I would--It was one time," she finished under her breath.

"Ward," Phil summoned the young man. "You stay here, (Y/N)." The two left, leaving you and Skye alone together.

"It was one time, huh?" you chuckled.

"In my defense, have you ever seen Captain America?" she gushed.

"Yeah, talked to him, too. I had to apologize for my dad's awkward and obsessive fangirling more than once." You sat down on top of the table casually.

Her mouth dropped open. "No way. You've had, like, a legitimate conversation with Steve Rogers?" She sat down next to you.

You smiled. "Yeah, but he talks to you like he's just a guy from Brooklyn, and you're just another person. It's quite a change from Stark," you said, rolling your eyes.

"Just how many Avengers have you met?"

"Oh, all of them," you affirmed. "It's not just a typical SHIELD agent thing, though. It's probably just because of who my dad is."

"Wait, who's your dad?" she asked.

"The guy interrogating you," you answered. "Well, the older one. The more civil one," you clarified.

She grinned. "What's that like? Did you grow up in SHIELD?"

"Yeah. That's why I'm such a high level at such a young age."

"How old are you?"

"21," you replied. "You?"

"Um, that's kind of a, uh, rude question, don't you think?" she deflected.

You laughed, a little confused. "Considering that you just asked me the same thing, no, not really."

The other agents walked back into the room just then, Ward carrying a small black case, and your father a small vial with greenish liquid inside.

"This is QNB-T16," Phil informed the two of you proudly while Ward removed a needle gun thingy from the case. "It's the top-shelf martini of sodium pentothal derivatives. It's a brand-new and extremely potent truth drug. Don't worry. The effects only last about an hour."

"And you'll have a nice little nap," Ward butted in. " And we'll have all the answers to our--" your father injected the serum into the younger agent's arm like it was just another day at SHIELD. "Hey! What the heck?!" he complained.

"I'm sorry. Did that hurt?" the older agent smiled pleasantly.

"No," he lied. "But you've lost your mind. You should never do that to a member of your team. And, yes, it did hurt a little bit," he confessed. "But I always try and mask my pain in front of beautiful women 'cause I think it makes me seem more masculine. My gosh, this stuff works fast."

"How much pain have you masked in front of me, Agent Ward?" you smirked.

"None," he glared at you.

"Harsh," you said.

"Don't trust us? Ask him whatever you'd like," Phil offered.

"Get the good stuff," you suggested.

"Wait a minute. Wait. You can't just--this is definitely not protocol!" he yelled at you as the Coulson's left the room.

"Screw protocol!" you shouted back to him through the closed door. "Is there any way to watch what's going on in that room right now?" you asked your father hopefully.

"Yeah, right over here. Figure out how to turn it on, and it's all yours," he said. You were already scanning around the table and screen before he finished his last sentence. You found a power button within the first few seconds of your search, and the feed popped on.

"--killed anyone?"

"Yes, a few. High-risk targets. But they were terrible people who were trying to murder nice people. And I didn't feel good afterward." He almost sounded like a grumpy child. Of what you had seen of him though, that wasn't far from the truth.

"And does your grandmother know about these things?" Skye asked Ward. She had removed her jacket before you had turned on the feed, and looked like she was enjoying what she was doing.

Ward turned to her, looking like he was ready to cry. "Gramzy?" he replied, his voice an octave higher than usual.

You laughed to hard that no sound came out. The world was not ready for the humor of this situation. You and your father were definitely not ready for the hilarity of a flirtatious Skye interrogating a slightly delirious and perfectly honest Agent Ward, as you were both practically dying. It took you a minute to compose yourself after Ward fell asleep so that you could go get Skye for some informal questioning.

"Did agent Ward give you anything?" Phil asked her, leaning over the touchscreen table.

"He told me he's been to Paris, but he's never really seen it, and that he wishes you had stayed in Tahiti," she answered, unaware that the two of you had heard the whole thing.

"It's a magical place," he responded.

"I don't wish that you had stayed in Tahiti," you said.

"Yes, as magical as it is, I'm glad that I Ieft, too."

"Ward doesn't like your style," Skye brought the focus back. "Kind of think I do."

"Of all the styles, the Coulson style is undoubtedly the best," you bragged.

Phil flicked a news channel up onto the viewing screen "What about his?" he asked, turning on the audio. The news anchor's voice filled the little room.

"--remains in critical condition. Employees could not identify the attacker, but security footage confirms that this man assaulted the factory foreman before damaging thousands of dollars' worth of company property."

Skye's mouth dropped open, recognizing the man that the security footage was showing. "This is wrong. This is not the guy I met. He was--he just needs a break."

"Then give him one," your father encouraged her. "What have you got?"

\--

Once the rest of the team, minus Ward, was in the room and paying attention, Phil put Mike's driver's license on the table and began to list what he had gathered from Skye's explanation. "Michael Peterson. Factory worker, married, one kid. Gets injured, gets laid off. Wife jumps ship."

"It's just so sad," you said.

Your father nodded. "Good guy, bad breaks. Best guess is, somebody tells him they can make him strong again, make him super."

"Who has the tech to do that? And why would they want to?" May asked.

"Fitz, what do we have from the security footage before the blast?" Phil called out.

"What are we seeing?" May said as the limited picture came up.

"Well, the man is angry at the other man," Fitz explained minimally. He and Simmons took in the expectant and slightly disappointed expressions from the rest of the team.

"The data is very corrupt," Simmons attempted to defend herself and her partner.

"Yeah, like cold war Russia corrupt," Fitz interjected.

"Yeah."

"I-I can't sync the timecode without--"

"What if you had the audio?" Skye offered. "I was running surveillance on the lab. I had my shotgun mic pointed at the window before the blast. The digital file's in my van. There's too much background noise for me, but--"

"You could probably you can clean that up, can't you?" Simmons said. "Find a sync point and use cross-field validation to find--"

"But I can't scrub for expression patterns when the vit-c is all--"

"Well, is there a chrominance subcarrier?"

"Yeah, attached to the back porch. Brilliant." The pair turned to face Skye.

"We will take that audio, please."

"Um, that audio would be great. Thank you very, very much."

"Your van's here, but you were right; we couldn't decrypt the files," Phil stated.

"The encryption's coupled to the GPS," Skye explained. "Get my van back to that alley, and then I'm in business."

"Agent May and Agent Coulson the Younger will escort you," Coulson the Elder told her. "And on your way out, wake up Ward."


	5. Key Word: Today

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Father-child bonds rock

"Audio file should be coming through," Skye told Fitz over the phone. "It's not compressed, so it might take a minute."

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah. I'm getting it," he confirmed. So, uh, uh, when--when you get back, I'll show you my thing." He paused, realizing what he had just said. "A thing," he tried to cover. "It's not I-it's my hardware. My equipment. Let's hang up."

The three women exchanged bemused glances, and you and Skye giggled a little bit.

"Well, there's another guy that agrees that you, my dear, are more physically attractive than I am," you said to Skye. You sat down in the back of her van while May stood just outside, both of you waiting patiently for the point at which you could go back to the plane.

"What? No. Give yourself some credit, (Y/N). I'm just the fascinating new girl," she deflected.

"New by, like, a few hours. I only just met both guys today, and neither of them has any problems communicating with me. You, on the other hand..." you trailed off suggestively.

"It's because you're Coulson's daughter," May pointed out. "They know that you're off limits."

"Well, off limits is a bit extreme. Sure, there's a small chance that my dad might perform more extensive background checks than SHIELD allows and watch us like a hawk, but that's just one end of the spectrum. He'd be more likely to be super chill about it," you argued.

"Boys are more worried about the overprotective side," Skye responded quietly. She reached over to a shelf and tucked something into her bra, but you chose to ignore it. Whatever it was couldn't have been of too much consequence. "That should do it," she said much more loudly than her last comment, shutting her laptop.

"Let's head back," May said.

"All right, let me just--" Skye stopped abruptly, shocked by a figure jumping down to quickly take May down by throwing her against the alley wall. You were too stunned to say anything. "Mike," Skye started. "What are you doing?" Mike--Mike Peterson?

"Saving you from the scary men in dark suits," he explained. "And you're gonna help save us."

"Us?"

Mike dragged a little boy--obviously his son--into view. You refrained from making any noise; he hadn't noticed you yet, and if he did, you would receive the same fate as May.

"Don't cry, okay? Stay strong for me, Ace," the increasingly hysterical man commanded his son, hoisting him into the van. "What are we?"

"We're a team," he replied.

"That's right. Now drive," he told Skye, slamming the van door.

Skye backed out and directed the van through the streets and toward the train station. Ace finally caught sight of you over his father's shoulder.

"Daddy?" he caught his attention.

"Yeah?"

"Is she gonna help us, too?" he asked, pointing to you.

Mike whipped around to face you. You gave him a slightly frightened smile and a standard two-fingered salute.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"A scary woman in a dark suit," you answered plainly. "Also, the daughter of a scary man in a dark suit that you probably really just ticked off."

Mike shook his head, choosing his battles. "You don't matter right now," he said, likely to assure himself. You noticed the usually dark skin on his face glowing orange for a few seconds, but it disappeared before you could really look at it. He was sweating profusely.

Skye pulled into the parking lot at the train station and began something on her laptop.

"What are you doing?" Mike asked.

"Erasing you," she replied simply. "You need to disappear.

"How long is this gonna take?"

"This is top speed. Trust me. It's not like I'm deleting a Facebook page. I'm bypassing the license bureau's AES-Protected data stream. So chill."

"How do I know you can really do this?"

Skye took a breath before responding cautiously, "I've done it before."

"What's happening, Dad?" Ace questioned his father.

"We're...moving, Ace," he said. "We'll take the nice lady with us. We--we--we can't go to the airport, so we'll--we'll take a train. And there, she'll--she'll help us start over, make a new life, a better life like I always said."

There were a few moments of silence while Skye worked, but that was interrupted by a voice that both you and Skye were relieved to hear. "Mr. Peterson, good morning. We're not a threat. We're here to help. But you're in danger, and we need to take you in."

"What did you do?!" Mike yelled at her, his face glowing again.

"Mike, I promise, they can help you," she tried to explain, but Mike stood up and braced himself for something. "Mike, Mike! Stop! What are you--"

The man pushed the van door outward so quickly and with so much force that it flew off. While the people waiting outside recovered from almost being creamed by a sheet of purple metal, Mike jumped out of the van, grabbing his son and Skye. He rushed into the train station, which was a smart move. He'd be hard to find in there.

Skye was not going down easy, though. You rushed inside the station without exchanging a word with your father, only to hear her starting fights and screaming profanities.

Mike was awesome to watch in a little hand-to-hand. People reacted to punching him like they would if they had punched a brick wall. A man made the mistake of trying to hit him with a metal bar, but it curved to the slope of his back on impact. That just made the guy mad. You watched the offender fly through the air.

You saw Ace walking around aimlessly, trying to find his dad. You pointed him out to your own father, and you rushed to help him. He recognized you, and asked, "Where's my dad?"

"We're trying to find him, Ace. Don't worry. We'll find him, okay?" you attempted to comfort him.

"Let's get him out of here," Phil told a security guard.

"I want my daddy!" the little boy complained.

"We'll get him back to you," you said.

"I promise," your father continued.

Ward was able to get Mike into a headlock for a few seconds, but the man wouldn't listen to anything he said. Instead, he broke out and flipped Ward harshly onto his back. Skye was attempting to escape, but Mike saw her and jumped across the station to reach her. A security guard with a gun then shot at them, badly, you might add. You could have aimed better than that. He took a few more shots, hitting glass and missing his target completely. Amateur. Mike disappeared into a stairwell with Skye, and the guard followed him.

You saw a cop car pull up with May in the front seat. You pointed this out to your father, and he said into his comm, "We're at the north entrance, May." He made his way over to Ward and helped him up.

"I thought you told them to hold fire," the younger agent groaned.

"I don't think that's us. We may have a third party here. He's gonna head down to the tracks. You stay high. I'll go low. Only take the shot if you have to, Ward." The man was already walking away, but your father wasn't convinced that he understood his orders. "Ward!" he called.

"If I have to," he reiterated grumpily.

You felt like you finally had a second to breathe, and apparently, so did your dad. He began to check you up and down. "Are you okay?" he inquired, looking for nonexistent injuries. "Are you hurt?"

"Dad, I'm okay," you reassured him. "It's a little freaky when his skin glows, but I think you just need an opportunity to talk to him, father to father."

"That's the thing, (Y/N). He's right about to explode."

"What? Explode?"

"That guy in the security feed? He was a test subject just like Mike. He didn't bring an explosive--he was the explosive. That Centipede serum is poisonous, and if we don't figure something out soon, Mike could bring the whole building down on us."

You heard gunshots from a balcony, then saw Mike freefalling from a high ledge. He crashed into a wooden stand of some sort, and you were afraid that he wouldn't be able to get up. It took a few seconds, but he jumped up and brushed debris off of his person, orange shining through his skin.

Your father approached him slowly and motioned for you to advance with him. Mike focused on him and gave him a look that could kill the most hardened agents. He kept his chill, though, and set his handgun down on the floor. You did the same.

"Think that means anything? I know you got men everywhere waiting to put me down. I know how this plays out," Mike seethed.

"I don't," he said simply. "I know you got poison in your system," he went on. "I know it's burning you up. Mike, the last guy who wore that exploded."

"I'm not like that other guy," he argued. "I'm--It matters who I am inside, if I'm a good person, If I'm strong."

"I know you're strong. Your boy knows it. He needs you to let us help."

"You took him! You took my wife, my job, my house. You think this is killing me?!" he shouted, revealing the apparatus on his arm. "All over, there's people being pushed down, being robbed. One of them tries to stand up, You got to make an example out of him." He ripped a support from the ruined stand, shaking it in the air like a protester.

"You bring this building down on us, will that help them?" your father asked.

"That's a lie! All you do is lie!" he ranted, swinging the support into what was left of the stand, safely destroying it. "You said if we worked hard, if we did right, we'd have a place. You said it was enough to be a man. But there's better than man. There's gods. And the rest of us-- what are we? They're giants. We're what they step on."

"I know. I've seen giants up close. And that privilege cost me nearly everything. But the good ones, the real deal, they're not heroes because of what they have that we don't. It's what they do with it. You're right, Mike. It matters who you are."

Tears were threatening to spill out of Mike's eyes as he consented, "I could, you know? Be a hero."

"I'd be surprised if you didn't become one," you agreed.

"I'm counting on it," Phil nodded.

A bullet whizzed through the air, connecting with Mike's forehead. You audibly gasped, looking up at Ward. You saw him on the ledge, holding a different gun than what he had before. Fitz was standing next to him, watching Mike with as much anxiety as a high schooler waiting to see what they had gotten on a final.

You turned back to see Simmons hunched over Mike's body, looking for signs of life. She looked up, with tears in her eyes, and nodded at Fitz. It clicked. They had used the Night-Night gun, or whatever they were going to call it, to stabilize Mike before he went kaboom. And they had succeeded.

You let out a huge sigh of relief and hugged your father. "Looks like we're not getting exploded today," you said.

He laughed. "Key word: today."

\--

Ward, Fitz, Simmons, and you were eating dinner (Chinese that you had ordered), when a call came in from Agent Hill.

"I got it," you exclaimed cheerfully. "She absolutely loves me." You picked up the phone and walked into the other room. "Evening, 'Ria."

You heard a groan from the other side. "Let's keep this as brief as possible, shall we? There's an 0-8-4 that we want you guys to check out," she said.

"An 0-8-4?" you replied, the volume of your voice dropping considerably. "Is that confirmed?"

"We want you to go in and confirm it. Just tell your father as quickly as you can, okay?" She hung up before you even got to agree.

"Yep, she just loves me," you muttered to yourself. "Hey, guys, we got an 0-8-4," you said, walking back into the room.

Everyone looked at you. "Are you serious?" Ward marveled.

"Yeah, they want us to go and confirm it. I don't know anything else. Hill hung up before I could ask any questions."

"Give me that," Ward demanded, snatching the phone and dialing your father's number.

"Hey!" you complained. He shushed you.

"Go," you heard.

"Sir, we've got an 0-8-4," Ward said.

"Is that confirmed?" he responded.

"That's what I said," you giggled.

"They want us to go in and confirm it," Ward told Phil.

"That is also what I said," you deadpanned. "Plagiarist."

"Deal with it, Coulson," he sassed you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End Season 1, Episode 1


	6. Meet the Bus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reader starts working her friendship magic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beginning Season 1, Episode 2

"S.H.I.E.L.D. 6-1-6, you have course confirmation. You are cleared direct to the Slingshot." Everyone was silent for a second, waiting for Phil to reply. "Agent Coulson, everything all right up there? We heard you had a little dustup on the ground," the agent on the radio checked in.

"Yeah, we're all good," he said calmly. "It's gonna be blue skies from here on out."

Then, of course, a gigantic hole was blown in the side of the plane.

A few of the Peruvian soldiers were swept out into the open sky, but your father had managed to wrap his bindings around the pole so that he wouldn't be sucked out of the plane. He grunted in pain as the air pressure desperately tried to pull him out.

"Coulson! Hang on!" Simmons called to him.

\--

"Skye? Girl's not qualified to be a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent," Ward said. You, your father, May, and Ward were having a little meeting in the sub room about the decision that your father had just made.

"Yeah, she's not technically qualified, but I think that she has the potential," you commented.

"Agreed," Phil smiled. "That's why I've invited her on as a consultant. S.H.I.E.L.D. does it all the time. Technically, Stark's a consultant."

"And technically, Skye's a member of the Rising Tide," Ward countered. "She hacked our RSA implementation--"

"Twice," Phil nodded. "From a laptop. Imagine what she'll do with our resources."

"I am. That's exactly what I'm imagining during this frown," he stated. You and your father exchanged amused glances. Ward scowled at the both of you before continuing. "You brought me on for risk assessment. She's a risk." He suddenly lowered his voice, as if Skye might somehow be listening. "She doesn't think like us."

You clapped slowly. "Give the man some candy."

"Exactly," your father grinned. "To both statements."

May spoke up. "We have two kids on this bus who aren't cleared for combat. You're adding a third," she pointed out.

"At least Fitz-Simmons are trained S.H.I.E.L.D. scientists. But Skye?" Ward shook his head. "You said this was a select team. Assembled to work new cases, to protect people. I don't see how letting some hacker tag along--"

"I'm looking for an objection I haven't already anticipated. I'm calling this. But your frown will be on record," Phil assured the younger agent.

"We've been called in to investigate an 0-8-4. We all know what that means," Ward continued to argue.

"Yes, we do," Phil agreed. "It means we don't know what that means." He handed May a tablet, and she walked away as Fitz, Simmons, and Skye entered.

"I think some more candy is in order for Ward," you smirked.

\--

"Officially, it's an airborne mobile command station. But we call it the bus. We find it best to use shorthand when in the field," Fitz rambled. "But everything has to be just so, you know, because of the danger."

"Yeah, I've been up here before, but I didn't see much because of the bag that Agent Ward put over my head," Skye said.

"Yes, so sorry about that," Simmons apologized.

"I'm not," you commented, sliding up behind the three of them.

Simmons rolled her eyes, then spotted something. "Water?" she offered Skye, handing her a disposable plastic bottle. She took it, shrugging.

May came over the intercom system, as affable as ever. "Wheels up in two. Lock it or lose it."

"What's that mean?" Skye asked.

"No backing out now," Simmons smiled. "Let's find a bunk for our guest."

"Oh, oh, yeah, there's only one left, and it's right next to mine," Fitz said excitedly.

"It's right next to mine, too. Nice," you noted.

Fitz noticed that he was in Skye's way, and quickly jumped out of it. "Sorry," he apologized.

"You can--Hey," she greeted Agent Ward. "I know we didn't really--"

"Might want to read that," he cut her off, shoving a guide to the plane into her hands. "This isn't like other planes."

"It was a pleasure, as always, Agent Ward," you called after him. He didn't respond but rather disappeared into his bunk. "Almost as friendly as Agent May is now," you told Skye.

"You can say that again," she agreed.

"Say what again?" your father asked, approaching the two of you.

"Sweet ride," Skye complemented the plane.

The two Coulsons nodded. "You have no idea," you said.

"I earned a little goodwill from Director Fury when I got hit right before the battle of New York," Phil explained.

"You took a bullet?" Skye grinned. Her respect for the man had just doubled.

"Ish. An Asgardian stabbed me through the heart with a Chitauri scepter. The effect was similar," he shrugged. "Got a few weeks' R&R and this plane. Had it completely refurbished. Studs up -- spared no expense."

"We wanted to put in a fish tank, but Fury vetoed that," you sulked.

"Yeah, Agent Ward told me they sent you to Tahiti," Skye went on.

"It's a magical place," he smiled softly.

Skye gave him a look. "You mentioned that."

"Yeah, why do you keep saying that?" you asked.

"Because it's true?" he shrugged. Skye moved to put her water bottle down on the table, but your father stopped her. "Here. Use a coaster." The three of you sat around the table. "Buckle up," Phil advised the two of you.

"I don't even know where we're going." She looked up in surprise as the lights dimmed.

"Peru. That's where the 0-8-4 was reported," he answered.

"And an 0-8-4 is?"

"An object of unknown origin," he defined. "Kind of like you."

"It's usually something that the aliens dropped, and don't want back," you summed up. "Not that aliens dropped you."

"With as much as I know about myself, they might have," she said.

"That's kind of sad," you sympathized.

"Anyway, a team goes in, determines if it's useful or if it poses a threat. Last one turned out to be pretty interesting," your father hinted.

"I remember that! That was my first 0-8-4," you reminisced. "Now look at me. I'm onto my second."

"And what was the last one?" Skye asked.

"A hammer," both Coulsons said.


	7. Food, Peru, and 200 Species of Snakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peru is awesome and kind of scary ngl

Skye looked out the window, amazed at the miles and miles of thick forest that you were all flying over.

"Amazing, isn't it?" you smiled, gazing out of the next window.

"Yeah, it's like nothing I've ever seen," she agreed. "I mean, then again, I don't remember ever being outside of the United States."

"There's nothing wrong with that," you consoled her. "I didn't leave the US until I was an official SHIELD agent."

"Did your dad have anything to do with that?"

"Not really," you shrugged. "There was never any opportunity for me to go. And it's not like any reasonable person would send their teenage daughter out of the country without their supervision."

"No school trips, no wealthy friends, nothing?"

"Nope. I joined SHIELD the day that I turned 18. I should have started at level one like everyone else, but Director Fury likes me, so he put me at level four, to begin with--that's where agents are able to go on field missions."

"That was basically his birthday present to you?" Skye smiled. "It's pretty cool to say that the director of SHIELD gave you a birthday present.

You laughed. "Pretty much, and my senior trip was my first mission. It was a couple of other younger agents, my dad, who was sent to--" you cleared your throat, "'supervise', and me. We were sent to Greece to inspect some recent recurring light shows with no visible cause."

"Let me guess--aliens?" she speculated. She walked over to the table where her water sat, then opened the bottle.

"Nah, the old Greek dude that reported it just had really bad eyesight. There were some paganist teenagers that were celebrating some ancient Greek holiday that week. So, we recommended an eye clinic for the old guy, celebrated with the surprisingly friendly teenagers one night, and went back to the states," you summed up. "Those kids made the best pasta flora I will ever eat. Good baklava, too."

"Pasta flora?"

"It's kind of like pie, but jam as the filling. Good stuff. They have it in South America, too, but they call it pastafrola."

Your father entered the room then. "I would not mind going back to Greece and getting more of that stuff," he commented. "Not at all."

"We could probably find a good recipe online," you said. "It wouldn't be the same, but--"

"We don't have an oven," he said quickly, dismissing the idea. "Otherwise, I would be all for it."

"Hey, we're going to Peru, anyway. We can just stop by Argentina and grab some pastafrola from a market," you suggested. "Have a Greek/South American style party tonight."

\--

The plane landed a couple of hours later, and everyone split into two cars. You got into a white Peruvian vehicle with your dad, and everyone else piled into the black SHIELD one. Both you and your father were fluent in Spanish, so you conversed cordially with the driver. He was a nice guy. He was Peruvian born and was studying Incan history on the site where the 0-8-4 was.

You came to a stop in the middle of a campsite, and everyone got out. "You go with Fitz and Simmons to investigate. I'll catch up with you in just a minute," your father explained.

"Okie dokie," you agreed.

Ward was all too quick to remove himself. "Tire tracks 40 meters back. I'll check them against the site's trucks--make sure we're alone," he said.

May followed closely, saying, "Too much exposure here. I'm gonna find a place to park."

Fitz and Simmons, however, were eager to investigate and see as much as they could of the country. "I would love to see a capuchin in the wild," Fitz commented. "Maybe even a yellow-tailed woolly monkey. You know, um, Peru has 32 different species of monkeys--"

Simmons cut him off, having heard enough over the years of Fitz's obsession with monkeys. "Yeah, and close to 200 species of snakes. The shushupe has a fascinating ven--" she paused as Fitz accidentally bumped the case containing the dwarves against the Peruvian Toyota. "Venom. It's neurotoxic, proteolytic, and hemolytic," she gushed, letting out a small laugh.

"That's fascinating," he acknowledged.

"I probably don't know as much as you do about Fitz, but I don't think he's too big of a fan of venomous snakes," you interjected, catching up to the two scientists.

Simmons looked back and noticed her partner's paling face. "Yeah. Oh. No, I'd be much more concerned with earthquakes, mala--" she let out another high pitched laugh as Fitz slapped a mosquito on his neck. "There's no vaccine for dengue fever," she smiled. "Oh, look at this," she breathed out in awe of the Incan temple.

You saw your father coming through the trees with Skye, and you walked over to meet them. Skye was arguing the point of warning the people about the potentially dangerous 0-8-4.

Your father sighed. "Remember the panic when that anti-matter meteor splashed down just off the coast of Miami, nearly devoured the city?" he asked her.

"No," she responded.

"Precisely. Because we kept it quiet and contained," he explained.

"Wait, Dad, I don't remember that, either," you commented.

"Because we kept it quiet and contained," he smiled.

"Good 'nuff for me," you shrugged. "As long as I get the full story later."

"Agreed. But, yes, Skye. You're not going to be posting anything about this," he articulated.

"So, what am I doing?" she asked, incredulous and a little confused.

"Well, if it gets out, I might need you to create some kind of diversion, put the public on the wrong scent," Phil replied.

"So everything that I'm against," Skye said.

"Yep," he affirmed.

"You'll live," you assured her, patting her on the shoulder.

The Peruvian professor met you just outside the temple, and your father took the initiative to greet him. "Good morning, Professor. I'm Agent Coulson with SHIELD, this is my daughter, and we understand you've made an interesting discovery," he said.

"I-I'm not sure how to explain it," the man stuttered. "This temple dates back at least 500 years. It's filled with pre-Incan artifacts. One of them is impossible and looks like it might be dangerous."

"Well, that's why we're here," Phil smiled.

"It's kind of our specialty," you agreed.


	8. 0-8-4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well heck here comes a creepy, flirtatious lady

You entered the temple, resisting the urge to photobomb Fitz and Simmons' selfie with it.

"Watch out," the professor warned you, referring to the low-hanging entrance. He walked over to a wall, pointing to a glowing metal chunk lodged in it. It almost looked alien with the craftsmanship. "Exactly as we found it," he said.

"Who else knows about this?" your father asked the other man, suddenly on edge. He cast you a worried glance, and you returned it. Now that you saw the 0-8-4, you knew the danger that would inevitably surround it.

"Just the ministry," he assured the two of you. "I believe they are the ones who contacted you," he continued, made nervous by your silence.

"Sir, I need you and your team to evacuate the site until we determine the risk associated with this object," Phil ordered.

Fitz let the dwarves loose, and Simmons took to controlling them. Sleepy hovered too close to the professor, and he stared at it, wide-eyed. "Leave the man alone," Simmons scolded it.

"Now--for your own safety," Phil continued to advise, putting a hand on the man's shoulder. He nodded, unsure, but followed the agent's cautions. Your father motioned for you to follow him out.

You barely caught Skye commenting on SHIELD's level of containment on your way out. "Nothing about this anywhere. It's amazing. I searched every data stream," she said excitedly.

You struck up a conversation with the professor. Today was the first day in a while that you had spoken in Spanish, and although you were a little rusty, it was really nice to speak something other than English. As a bit of a perfectionist, you became frustrated with your shortcomings as a linguist quickly, but you could tell that the professor appreciated your attempt to converse with him in his native tongue.

The situation you were met with outside was the opposite of the light, casual conversation that you had just been making. Ward and May were holding off a military group with exactly three handguns.

"Retiremos?" you suggested to the professor (Retreat?). He nodded, and you both speed-walked back to get your father to handle things. Luckily, he was already on his way out. "Ward and May need your diplomatic skills," you reported.

"Already on it," he nodded. He stepped out into the sunlight, shading his eyes so that they could adjust from the dark inside of the temple. "Buenos dias. Soy Agente Coulson," he announced loudly. "Estamos aquí por un asunto de la seguridad internacional."

You began to laugh. "What even was your pronunciation of those last two words?" you cackled. "Sec-yoor-ee-dad een-ter-nash-ee-oh-nal? You sound like such a gringo!"

"Phillip?" a woman in aviators asked from the crowd of militants. You didn't recognize her, but apparently, your father did.

"Camila?" he asked, equally astounded to see this woman here. A very interested and somewhat excited smile split his face, and he looked over at you as if you should know who she was, too. "Do you mind?" he questioned her casually, gesturing to the men under her command.

"After you," she shrugged. As soon as Phil motioned for Ward and May to drop their weapons, this "Camila" lady did with her men, commanding them, "Bajen armas." They put their guns down, looking a little too disappointed. She stepped up to your father and put a hand on his shoulder, taking off her sunglasses. "And now for a proper hello." She kissed him on both cheeks, and he looked only too happy to oblige. You stiffened; you weren't sure how to feel about her yet.

"Comandante--a promotion," he noted. "Congratulations."

"Sí, felicitaciones," you muttered sarcastically.

"Three years ago. But thank you," she accepted.

They were standing way too close together for your liking, so you not-so-subtly grabbed your father's arm and pulled him back a couple of inches. Camila shot you a look of confusion. You had forgotten that the space that it was comfortable for people to stand when talking to each other was shorter in a lot of Latin American countries. You returned with an apologetic smile, but you still weren't so sure of her intentions with your father, past or present.

Without taking his eyes off of Camila, Phil introduced you, May, Ward, and this woman all at once, saying, "Agent (Y/N) Coulson, Agent Melinda May, Agent Grant Ward, this is Comandante Camila Reyes. She's with the Policía Militar del Perú. We used to work together back in the day." He finally looked somewhere other than Comandante Reyes's eyes. "Let the team know everything's okay," he told Ward.

The young man nodded suspiciously in response, motioning for you and May to follow him as he climbed the few steps up to the temple. You gave him a look that clearly said, "Are you kidding me?" as you flicked your head toward your father and the comandante. In reluctant agreement, he rolled his eyes.

"I know you've found a strange object on Peruvian soil. We should have a conversation about how to proceed," Reyes suggested, stepping a couple of inches forward. Well, there was your attempt to put space between those two down the drain.

"Of course," he agreed, "but an 0-8-4 supersedes all national claims."

You didn't miss Reyes totally checking out your dad. Gross. "You look good," she complimented him, suddenly switching the subject.

"Yeah, I work out," he responded, to which you began cackling again.

"You do not," you gasped between cackles.

Reyes looked like she was trying not to laugh as well, and put her hand on his shoulder again. "Come, let me show you something," she said, beginning to lead him away. Her hand slipped farther down his back, and you scowled. You followed them closely, making sure that she didn't show him anything that you didn't approve of. It certainly made it easier to breathe when she pulled some chocolate from a pocket in her uniform. "The cacao is from a secret valley in Peru. Very special. The best chocolate in the world," she bragged, offering some first to you, and then your father. That was a smart move on her part.

You took a bite and smiled. It was very bitter dark chocolate, and it made an extremely satisfying snapping noise when you bit off some from your chunk.

"So, is this your daughter, Phillip? She's a beauty," she said before he had a chance to try it.

"Yep," he answered proudly, lowering the chocolate. "Spitting image of her mother. Inherited her brains, too, thankfully."

"She inherited her mother's fine taste in chocolate, as well," Camila added, noticing your reaction to the treat. Had known your mother, too, or just known of her? Maybe she just had a flirtatious nature. You hoped so, anyway. "What do you think of the chocolate?" she asked, goading him into trying it.

"Could use some sugar," your dad commented after taking a bite.

Camila rolled her eyes and looked over at you, muttering, "Americans." You nodded in agreement, even though you were very American yourself.

"You know me, Camila. I'm a pretty simple guy," he defended himself.

"There was nothing simple about your last mission here," she pointed out.

You raised your eyebrows at your father, who shrugged in response. Oh, you were definitely getting an explanation later.

"I had some great help," he said, exchanging a smile with Camila.

"There isn't any chance we get to keep the device, is there?" she asked as if she knew that she had already lost the fight.

"It's not mine to give, but I'm sure we can find a way to resolve this respectfully in a way that gives your--"

An explosion shook the ground behind the three of you, and you turned quickly to see smoke quickly filling the air.

"Rebels," Camila said.

"Stay close," Phil commanded, going into leader-mode. "(Y/N), on my four. Camila, on my eight."

"Let's go," you nodded. More explosions rocked the earth around you, and you only hoped that everyone else was safe.


	9. Phil Coulson: World's Biggest Drama Queen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He literally never wastes an opportunity to say something unnecessarily dramatic

The three of you ran through the danger, shooting back at those that shot at you, hoping that the aim of the rebels was as bad as the aim of any stereotypical movie villain, and looking for any cover that you could duck behind. Reyes finally found a table in an evacuated shop that she turned onto its side, motioning for your little trio to duck behind it.

"Your men need to fall back now, or we'll never make the runway," Phil pointed out. He fired some shots, taking down the nearest rebel shooter. "Now--your truck. Let's go!" He motioned for you to go behind Camila and himself, and as they ran through the gunfire, they worked together, covering each other until they made it to some foliage by the temple.

Fitz, Simmons, and Skye were holed up right by the entrance of the temple, unable to proceed in fear of the rebels shooting at them. Ward, who was with them, stepped out of the temple, elongating a shiny rod-like weapon.

"Tell your men to get down," Phil ordered Reyes.

"Al suelo!" she shouted to her men.

They hit the dirt, and Ward did a (completely unnecessary) front flip onto the ground in front of the temple, landing in a total superhero pose, and shoved the weapon into the ground. A pod floated up from the air, and everyone ducked as it radiated a pulse that knocked everyone else back several yards.

Reyes's truck was now in sight, and with the threat neutralized, she stood up and took the initiative to run to it. "Vámonos!" she called.

Ward motioned for Skye, Fitz, and Simmons to come out, and May pulled up in the SHIELD SUV just in time to block gunfire from the last rebel still standing.

Reyes opened the door to the truck, and your father told her to get in first with a polite, "After you."

"After you," she returned.

"Just get in the truck, Dad," you said. He turned and hopped in the truck, closely followed by you, then Reyes. You hadn't planned this, but you were now acting as a barrier between your father and the still-flirtatious comandante. Even as the truck closely followed May to the Bus, she still flirted shamelessly with your dad. Thank goodness you were in the middle so that she couldn't touch him without awkwardly reaching over you.

The ramp to the Bus opened as soon as it was in sight, and May drove the SUV and parked it quickly on the ramp. Ward got out and immediately began to close the ramp, to the immediate protests of Skye and the scientists. Escorted by Reyes's soldiers, the three of you ran to the plane, making it onto the ramp only just in time.

"Cut it pretty close, sir," Ward commented.

"Didn't want to leave anyone behind," Phil responded.

"I got to say it," Skye began, out of breath. I miss my van."

"Now, what was the problem?" Ward asked the similarly winded Fitz.

"As I said before, this device has a high-frequency, fluctuating, sub-material compression--"

"Fitz, in English," Ward demanded.

Annoyed with Ward's lack of finesse, Fitz restarted in simple terms. "The 0-8-4 is fueled by tesseract technology. Hydra. World War II. Captain America. It's full of lethal amounts of gamma radiation."

"Gamma--you're saying it's nuclear?" Ward questioned.

"No," Phil cut in. "He's saying it's much, much worse."

After a moment, everyone took a collective step back from the duffel bag in which the 0-8-4 was contained.

"You gigantic drama queen," you muttered.

\--

Not to worry. The device is stable. Not that it couldn't explode at any minute, especially if hit with machine-gun fire," Simmons explained, her voice shaking. "But things like this happen from time to time when in the field, and at first, it's very unpleasant, and you regret your decision to leave the lab at all."

"You'll get used to it, Simmons," you comforted her. "Things like this are practically second nature to me by now."

"Really?" Skye asked skeptically.

"No, of course not," you chuckled. "Trying to calm everyone else down just calms me down, too."

The lab doors opened, letting in the sounds of an angry argument between Ward and Fitz. "Are you mental? I did explain in great detail exactly what I meant, using the queen's bloody English!" Fitz shouted, beginning to assemble a tool.

"I use normal English--words like "duck" and "run" and 'might blow us to pieces,'" Ward seethed.

"Oh! Well, congratulations, Agent Ward.  
You managed to string three words together in a sentence."

"Ladies, you're both beautiful in different ways, so you are definitely allowed to shut up!" you yelled over them. They paid you no mind, but continued arguing loudly. You would try to cut in at different points in order to silence them, but nothing worked. Meanwhile, Skye and Simmons watched as they tried not to giggle.

The lab doors opened once more, and your dad walked in.

"Thank goodness," you praised.

"Do we have a problem in here?" he asked quietly. The boys immediately shut up.

"No, sir. Just working on our communication," Ward said shamefully. "Not everyone was prepared for a firefight.

"We got out, didn't lose anyone, saved a few of theirs--I'd say we did all right. Anything else?" Phil asked.

Skye raised her hand. "Uh, yeah. I have a small question. Because I've been feeling like the tagalong hayseed rookie, but now I get the sense that Ward doesn't know which one's Simmons and which one's Fitz, and they've seen even less gunfire than me, and I'm no rocket scientist, but is this your first mission together?" She addressed the scientists.

"No. Of course not. It's our second," Simmons stated.

"I was your first? That's sweet," Skye muttered sarcastically.

"You're amused?" Ward asked disdainfully.

"I'm terrified. I am in way over my head, but I have been on this team just as long as any of you. I might as well be team captain," she spat.

"All in favor say 'aye,'" you said. Simmons chuckled at the ridiculousness of Skye's claim. Everyone else stared at Skye.

"I was joking, but maybe that's not a bad idea, because these guys do not like each other much."

"This isn't about that," Ward expressed. "I'm a specialist. Today, I could have eliminated the enemy threat myself if I was working alone, but I had non-combat-ready agents--"

"Whoa, whoa. Wait. You work alone?" Fitz mocked.

"So typical, Simmons scoffed. "Who do you think designs your equipment?

"Or the polymers for your weaponry," Fitz added. "People like us do it.

"Yeah. Try going into the field with just your bare bum," Simmons finished.

"See them proving the point I just made?" Skye observed.

"You're not wrong," Phil agreed. "We still need to iron out the kinks. But, Ward, you can speak six languages. (Y/N), you've been making compromises and stopping fights since you were a toddler on the playground. Simmons, you have two PhDs in fields I can't pronounce, and, Fitz, you are a rocket scientist. So work it out."

"I-I'm--I'm good at stuff, too," Skye called after him as he left to check on the Peruvian soldiers upstairs.

\--

You knocked on the door to the cockpit to make sure that May knew you were coming in before you opened the door.

"Hey, Mindy," you greeted her quietly. She didn't respond. "My dad told me to check on you. I've got a couple of cans of Diet Cherry Dr. Pepper. I packed it because I still remember that's your favorite caffeinated soda, unless you've changed your mind within the past six years." You waited for her to say something, but she didn't, so you sat down in the copilot's chair, setting the two cold cans of soda in the cup holders.

"It's really nice to see you again," you prompted. Still, she remained silent.

"You know, talking to you now is like praying. I know that you're listening, but it's highly unlikely that I'm going to get an audible response." You studied her face, looking for any sign that she was paying any attention to you. Her face remained blank.

"Ever since Bahrain--it's the strangest thing--for some reason, I always looked for you at all of the little things I did during high school because before, you were always there. All of the academic tournaments, the drama club performances," you recalled. "I was finally able to convince myself that I probably wouldn't ever see you again right before graduation. But then, I thought I saw you in the crowd once or twice. It probably wasn't you, though. Just a lookalike, right?"

"That was me," May finally piped up. "And thanks for the soda. It is still my favorite. We're entering restricted airspace now, so I'm going to need to concentrate."

"I'll leave you to yourself, then." You got up and opened the door to leave the cockpit.

"(Y/N)?" May caught your attention once more.

"Yeah?"

"You look just like your mom and act just like your dad did when they were your age."

You smiled. "Thanks, Mindy."

You closed the door quietly behind you, and on your way to tell your dad that he now owed you ten dollars for getting May to tell you something other than "go away," you couldn't avoid eavesdropping on Skye and Ward a little bit.

"Usually, one person doesn't have the solution. But a hundred people with one percent of the solution--that'll get it done," Skye said. "I think that's beautiful--pieces solving a puzzle."

"Ooh, Skye, I like that a lot. Can I quote you on that?" you asked, passing through.

"Sure?" she answered.

"I'm going to paint it on a canvas and put it on my wall at home."

"Have fun with that, (Y/N)."

You could tell that they were waiting for you to disappear down the hallway towards your dad's office, but before you did, you heard Ward tell Skye, "You and I see the world differently is all."

You went to knock on the door to the office, but you were stopped by Reyes's voice. "This plane is such a step up from the RV we used to work out of when you were stationed in Cuzco," she noted.

"I don't remember much working," he said, and you blanched.

He had been moved to Cuzco when you were three, two months before your mother had passed away, and he had stayed there for months after. You felt like you remembered going down to visit your dad with your mom that first month, so that must have been when Reyes had met your mom. Did that mean she had met you, too? Had your father tried to help himself get over your mother's death by...sleeping with another woman?

"I also don't remember you being this direct," Phil continued.

"We're stuck above the clouds for the next few hours," Reyes tempted. "Might as well enjoy ourselves. We could make a few more memories to add to your collection. What do you think?"

"I think Ward already knows you'll have to eliminate May from the equation to have a chance which gives him about 20 seconds to get to her first," he said. Your eyes widened. That was the last thing you heard before someone mercilessly smashed your head into the wall.


	10. Out of the Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With their (previously unbeknownst to them) strongest player out cold, how will the team get out of this mess?

We're stuck above the clouds for the next few hours," Reyes tempted. "Might as well enjoy ourselves. We could make a few more memories to add to your collection. What do you think?"

"I think Ward already knows you'll have to eliminate May from the equation to have a chance which gives him about 20 seconds to get to her first," he said.

He threw Reyes down to the ground to get her out of his way. She was quick to follow him down the stairs to the lounge area of the Bus, where they found a soldier being subdued by Ward, Skye struggling against the hold of a soldier, and you, an unconscious heap on the floor, your head bleeding from where a soldier had slammed you into the wall with the butt of his gun. On the screen in the sub room was live footage of a soldier holding a knife up to Fitz's neck.

"We were allies," Phil said, hurt by Reyes's betrayal. "We had history. When did you decide to throw that away?"

"As soon as I saw your team," she answered.

\--

"This is my fault," Fitz purported sullenly. "Should have learned kung fu."

Everyone was cuffed to the edge of the cargo hold so that, should it open, you would all be sucked out into the open air. Skye, Simmons, Fitz, and Ward were all conscious; the unconscious forms of you and May bookended the four, May on Skye's end and you on Ward's.

"Oh, yeah, but I shouldn't have pushed you into the field in the first place. You weren't ready," Simmons countered.

"Uh, we--we weren't ready," Fitz corrected.

"It was my job to make a proper threat assessment," Ward tried. "And it's no mistake that they took out (Y/N) before she could do anything."

"This wouldn't have happened if Agent May wasn't on the stick," Skye concluded. "She would have busted out some of her ninja know-how."

"Agent May? No. No, no. She transferred from administration," Fitz said. Simmons nodded in confirmation.

"Well, I've seen her destroy a guy, so..." Skye shrugged. Everyone turned to Ward so that he could settle the little debate.

He sighed. "You've heard of the Cavalry?" he asked.

"Yeah," Simmons said.

"Yeah," Fitz reciprocated. "Everyone at the academy talks about--" The eyes of the scientists widened in understanding.

"She's the Cavalry?" they inquired together, excited.

"I told you never to call me that," May groaned.

"I can't believe it! Oh, we're sure to get out of here now," Simmons cheered. She looked over Skye to May and asked, rather like addressing Siri, "Um, how do we get out of here?"

"Can't go through the doors," she began. "They're bolted, tied to the pressurization lines. You two geniuses have nothing?"

"Yeah, well, it's hard to concentrate in these intense situations," Fitz defended Simmons and himself.

"Hey. Don't freeze up," Ward encouraged him. "Take a breath. You don't need to come up with the whole solution. Just part of it." He looked over at Skye. "Right?"

"Yeah. Pieces solving a puzzle," she smiled back.

"Okay. First, we need ideas," Simmons initiated. "How do we get up to Coulson?"

"No sign of life from (Y/N) yet?" May asked.

"Well, she's breathing, but other than that, no," Ward supplied.

"Why do you ask?" Fitz queried. "I know that Ward said they took her out for a reason, but what exactly is that reason?"

"For one, she's an expert tactician," May answered. "For two, I trained her."

"I thought that she was trained by Romanoff," Ward said.

"That was after she got better than me." Four heads whipped to stare at who they knew as (Y/N) Coulson--the goofy, awkward, slightly immature, and extremely young agent of SHIELD--with much more respect.

If you had been conscious, you would have rolled your eyes and made a comment about how May always went easy on you, anyway, which wasn't true in the least. When you had been barely fourteen, she had honestly given her all in trying to beat you, but, giving your all yourself, you had been able to consistently floor her. She and your father had been able to pull some strings to get Agent Romanoff, the Black Widow herself, to commit some time every week to you. You still kept in contact, even though you hadn't seen her since she had come to your father's funeral. When you weren't out on a mission, you offered your overqualified self to teach new recruits some basics in hand-to-hand.

"Okay, let's bounce around some ideas here," Skye pushed. "Let's assume that we get free and take out that guard. What do we do next?"

"We need to get those doors open and to do that, we need to reset the pressurization," Fitz said.

The group bounced ideas around, each growing more impossible and dangerous. The scientist duo shot down most of the impossible ideas, Skye the dangerous ones.

"What if we activated the 0-8-4 using one of the dwarves?" Skye finally suggested. "We can open up the vents and get it in that way. The 0-8-4 will go off, probably causing some pretty extensive damage to the plane, and that'll reset the pressurization."

"The dwarves are in the lab," Fitz said. "We can't do that."

"Then I'll drive the van into the lab doors as I said earlier," May asserted.

"Well, that's clearly the worst idea we've heard yet," Simmons scoffed.

"But it could work," Skye insisted.

"Reyes is gonna kill us the minute we land, regardless, and blame it on rebels," Ward pointed out. "This way, we have a fighting chance. I'll take it. What's first?"

"We can't get upstairs without going in the lab," Fitz began.

"And the only way to release the lab doors is from upstairs," Simmons finished.

Skye huffed. "The first thing is, we're tied to the cargo door, so unless you can--" She stopped in horror at a disgusting noise coming from May's direction.

"What the heck was that?" Fitz grimaced.

"Her wrist," Ward sighed.

In a matter of seconds, May had gotten out of her restraints and snuck up to the balcony-type deck over the cargo hold. The soldier acting as a guard made his round to look at his prisoners, only to find that May had gone missing. Before he had time to ask where she had gone, the agent had flipped him over the railing. He smacked on the floor ten feet below, unconscious. May jumped down and landed next to him, then popped her wrist back.

"What's next?" she asked. Everyone sat, stunned at her quick execution of getting the guard off of their backs. As soon as everyone was free, they realized that you were still out of the game.

"We probably need to find somewhere safe for (Y/N)," Skye said. "I don't think it would be very good for her to be out in the open where anything could happen to her."

"Just put her in the corner, for now, then we'll put her in the van," May ordered.

After you were placed carefully in the back corner, May prepared the van and everyone circled up.

"Okay, we're sure, right? Everyone's sure?" Skye checked.

"We're all on board," Simmons agreed.

"Yeah, let's do this fast," Fitz nodded.

"No turning back. No freezing up," Ward added.

"Because if we do, then," Fitz began.

"All of us die," Ward concluded.

"We know," Simmons quavered.

"All right," Ward said, satisfied that no one was backing out.

May revved the engine of the van loudly. "You guys talk a lot," she complained. Everyone hastily moved out of the way so that she could ram the van into the doors. The glass in the doors shattered and flew all over the floor, and the doors themselves were completely knocked out of place.

Fitz quickly found the case the dwarves were in while Simmons undid the vent. Skye and Ward found the equipment necessary to keep everyone inside the plane, then tied everyone to a line. A dwarf was sent up through the vent, and all that was left to do was wait.

\--

"SHIELD 6-1-6, we have radar contact.  
Requesting confirmation on a change in course. Over."

Reyes pulled a gun from her belt and readied it for fire. "Answer it, or they all learn what a 30,000-foot drop feels like," she commanded Phil. He remained silent.

"Agent Coulson, are you there? You have course confirmation. You are cleared direct to the Slingshot," the agent on the other side said. Still, he said nothing but noticed one of Fitz's drones making its way to the 0-8-4. He hastily rewrapped his bindings that he had undone around his hand. "Agent Coulson? Everything all right up there? We heard you had a little dustup on the ground."

"Yeah, we're all good," he finally spoke up. "It's gonna be blue skies from here on out."

\--

"Simmons, forget what I said before," Fitz said. "This is the moment that we regret." He pressed a button on his control screen, and the dwarf activated the 0-8-4.

It fired a blue laser that opened a gigantic hole in the side of the plane.

Immediately, a soldier was swept out into the open air. Phil was glad that he had hold of the rope that had recently had him tied to a post; it was the only thing keeping him in the plane.

The doors to the cargo hold unlocked.

"It worked!" Skye rejoiced.

"The dropping cabin pressure released the doors," Simmons explained, thrilled.

"I'll take care of the soldiers, you guys get to the 0-8-4," Ward ordered.

"And Coulson?" Fitz asked.

"Let's hope he can handle himself," Ward shrugged.

He opened the door, immediately faced with a soldier struggling against the pull of the wind. It would have been doing the soldier better to have dropped the gun he was holding and held onto the couch with both hands, but it apparently suited him better to shoot at the agents. Ward rushed the soldier, disarming him and belting his arms to the couch. Another soldier attacked, but Ward kicked his face and knocked him to the ground.

"Go now! Find the 0-8-4!" Ward shouted to everyone else as yet another soldier attacked.

May rushed to the cockpit and fought the soldier for control of the plane.

"Coulson!" Reyes yelled as she lost control and was nearly swept out of the plane.

Phil caught her arms just in time, shouting back, "Hold on! It's okay!"

Simmons found the 0-8-4 lodged in the wall. Grunting loudly, she managed to pull it out.

"We've got it, reel us back in!" Skye called to Fitz as a piece of paper flew into her face.

"I've got you!" Fitz shouted back.

Upon realizing that the paper was a safety pamphlet, Skye threw it aside and unbuckled herself from the safety line tying her to Fitz and Simmons.

"What are you doing?! We need your help!" Simmons scolded her incredulously.

"Trust me!" Skye demanded.

Phil and Reyes had inched their way to relative safety. Using the cord that had previously bound him, Phil tied Reyes's wrists to a pole. "Don't want you to know what a 30,000-foot drop feels like," he explained passive-aggressively.

May finished taking care of the soldier in the cockpit just in time to pull it out of its steep dive. However, the soldier decided he wasn't done, and grabbed a fistful of May's hair. It was his mistake, he soon learned, as she smashed his face into the dashboard, then kneed his head into the wall.

Ward was still battling the last of the soldiers.

Skye pulled something large and yellow out of a safety compartment.

A soldier had grabbed onto Fitz's and Simmons's safety line. "Cut him loose!" Simmons shouted. They quickly unbuckled themselves from the line, freeing the soldier and sending him flying out of the hole in the plane. Ward grabbed his shirt just in time, keeping him inside.

"Hold on!" Ward yelled.

The soldier was working his way back to safety, holding onto Ward's arm for dear life, but his shirt ripped. He didn't have the strength to keep hold and was pulled out of the plane.

Skye had successfully unboxed the large yellow thing she'd found, and pressed a button for it to inflate. She lost hold, but it fully inflated into a large raft just the perfect size to cover the hole in the plane just in time; Ward had lost his grip on the pole and almost flew out of the plane, hitting the raft just as it covered the hole.

One last soldier weakly reached for his gun, but Phil stepped on his wrist and punched him in the face.

All was well now, with the soldiers and Reyes down, and the hole in the plane covered by the inflatable raft.

Skye helped Ward up, explaining, out of breath, "I read the safety pamphlet."

"You might be the first," he remarked.

"No other way in, huh?" Coulson asked as the agents congregated around the bar. He set a glass down on it. "I was just starting to warm up to this place."

Skye grabbed a coaster from under the bar and placed the glass on top of it.

"The 0-8-4 is cooling and stable," Fitz reported. "But we should call HQ and get it to the Slingshot as soon as possible."

Phil turned to Reyes, who had sat up but still had her wrists bound. "Told you they were good," he said smugly.


	11. Slingshot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yeah we're gonna have to kill the fish tank

"Not a scratch," Skye noted as Phil checked every inch of his little red car. "But your plane's totaled. I hope SHIELD insurance covers hijackings."

"Sure. Under 'incidentals,'" he responded. "(Y/N) still out?"

"Yep. That soldier must have hit her really hard."

"I'll say. She's got two goose-eggs--one on each side of her head," he said. "Reyes probably heard some rumors about her and wanted to make sure she didn't interfere. I don't know if I should be proud of (Y/N) for that or not."

"You wouldn't guess that she's so...capable, I guess, just based on how she acts," Skye remarked. "Ward and May are so reclusive, but she's so outgoing."

"She spent years training herself to put up that front," Phil said. "She designed her personality herself to be misleading."

"That's not how she normally is?" Skye asked, shocked. "What's she actually like, then?"

"She's a lot calmer."

"Naturally."

"She's definitely just as friendly, but she doesn't go out of her way to make herself the center of attention. Not many people know that she's just been acting the part of an annoying, immature kid since she joined SHIELD. Before, it was hard to get her to say a word. She can actually give excellent advice, and she's very good at listening; in fact, she's probably the closest thing we have to a therapist on this plane. If you ever get her to put aside this cover she's built for herself..."

"Don't waste my opportunity," Skye smiled. "I get what you're saying."

"Exactly. You two would be the kind of friends that complete each other. Inseparable. I look forward to seeing her really make a friend."

"Does she not have many?"

"Besides me, not really," Phil sighed. "She always pushed people away. She didn't want to have to deal with the strings that come with friendship, especially once she joined SHIELD."

"Wow," Skye breathed. "What exactly am I signing up for?"

"Like I said--front-row seat to the craziest show on earth."

"Yeah, but I didn't expect the show to get this crazy this fast all for an object you're just gonna destroy."

"Slingshot is protocol. A weapon like the 0-8-4 is too dangerous for any person or country to have. People like Reyes would always be after it," he pointed out.

"What happened with Reyes, anyway?" Skye asked.

"She's being held at a SHIELD detainment facility. I expect the Peruvian government will negotiate for her release. She probably won't spend much time in jail."

"No, I mean what happened with you and Reyes? You guys totally did it back in the day, right?" Skye pressed, a cheeky grin on her face.

Phil raised his eyebrows at her, much like he did whenever you said something like that. "That's classified," he said. Skye laughed.

\--

You woke up in your bunk, your head pounding, to the sound of Fitz and Simmons laughing. You sat up and waited for the head rush to pass before you stood up and opened the door to your bunk. 

To say that you were unprepared for the scene before you was a huge understatement. The mess that was the Bus took you completely off-guard, not to mention the hole in the side of the plane.

"What the heck?" you muttered, rubbing your eyes. "What did I miss?"

Fitz and Simmons came into view, Simmons carrying a blue cooler which, judging by the drinks in their hands, was most likely full of beer.

"(Y/N)! You're awake!" Simmons cheered.

"Yeah!" you said more brightly than you felt.

"Here, follow us," Fitz beckoned. "Beer?"

"No, thanks, I don't drink," you declined. "Would you mind explaining to me what in the name of Steve Rogers happened here?"

"Oh, yes, I can imagine that you must be very confused," Simmons sympathized. "How do we explain this, Fitz?"

"We blew up a plane," Fitz said proudly.

"I had a new experience," Simmons beamed, suddenly forgetting that you had asked her to explain.

"Eat that, Professor Vaughn." Fitz had apparently forgotten, as well.

"You had a new experience. But it was new for all of us," Simmons went on.

"They're happy," May noted.

"They're a little drunk," you corrected.

"You're awake!" Skye greeted you excitedly, coming in to hug you.

"Awake and confused," you added, embracing her. "Seen my dad anywhere?"

"Not for a while. I think he's up in his office."

"Hey, come on. You guys don't want to miss this," Fitz summoned everyone as he and Simmons sat down. "So, it'll take about 180 days to reach the sun. Now, yes, of course, it would have been faster if they'd used hydrogen-fueled APUs, but they're having fun."

"That sounds like so much fun," you rolled your eyes. Everyone but you and Skye sat down, too.

"How many of those have you guys had?" Skye asked, referring to the bottles of beer in the cooler Simmons had just set down.

"Sk-Skye," Simmons chuckled. "It's important when in the field to unwind from time to time."

"Yeah, yeah, especially after a hard day of everyone almost dying," Fitz agreed.

"Which doesn't happen every day, right? It's an anomaly--an irregularity. Not...the...norm." She slowed as your dad walked up to them the look of a father ready to scold his children on his face, a look which you knew all too well.

"Speaking of 'not the norm,' whose idea was it to blow a hole in the plane?" he asked.

"It was not mine," you said. "I don't even know what actually happened."

"May said that the doors were tied to the pressurization, so I thought--" Skye was cut off by Simmons as she tried to take the blame.

"So we thought it was the only way to release them," Simmons finished.

"It was everyone's idea, sir," Ward explained.

"Yes, quite genius, really," Fitz nodded.

"Nice work," your dad congratulated them.

"All clear for liftoff," a magnified voice called out.

"Oh, time for blastoff," Fitz said. He plugged his nose and continued, "Launching In three, two--" The rocket launched, the clouds of smoke from the engines looking almost pink in the sunset. "The trajectory will take it beyond the Lagrange point so that it doesn't hit Herschel."

"And there haven't been any coronal mass ejections, so it shouldn't lose telemetry," Simmons continued.

"Guys, English," Ward complained.

You walked over to your dad. "I guess we made it to the Slingshot," you said.

"Hey, kiddo! Yeah, we ended up making it after all, even though it got a little scary on the way," he replied. "How are you feeling?"

"Head hurts, and I'm really confused," you summed up. "You're going to have to fill me in on what all went down while I was out."

"Well, turns out that Reyes wasn't out to make friends, after all," he began.

"I could have told you that," you scoffed.

\--

"Really? Really, Coulson? Six days? It only took you six days to take a completely renovated piece of state-of-the-art machinery and turn it into scrap?!" Fury ranted. You had your end of the comm on speaker so that you and Skye could listen in while Fury lectured him.

"My team acted with my authority," your dad defended.

"Don't talk to me about authority," Fury spat. "Do you know how much this plane cost? It's got a bar. A really nice one," he lamented. "Talking to me about authority. You know, I have the authority to downgrade you to a Winnebago."

"I'm aware of that, sir."

Just then, the comm went silent, filled with static. You and Skye groaned loudly.

"I bet they just finished fixing the communication jammer and wanted to test it," you said. "It's fun when someone gets Fury talking about authority, too. He really likes reminding everyone that he's at the top of the food chain, so when someone says the word authority within earshot, he won't stop whispering 'Talking to me about authority' under his breath for the next half hour."

Suddenly, the static broke and you could hear Fury's voice again.

"How's Lola?"

"She's fine, sir. Thanks for asking."

Quietly, you could hear Fury say grumble one last thing: "Talking to me about authority."

You heard your father sigh, then say into the comm, "Yeah, we're gonna have to kill the fish tank."

"Dang it!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End Season 1, Episode 2


	12. Phil Coulson: World's Biggest Drama Queen (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> LITERALLY. NEVER. WASTES. AN OPPORTUNITY.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Begin Season 1, Episode 3

"You know you're late," Ward scolded Skye.

"I'm tired from the morning's workout," she complained. "I thought I was joining SHIELD, not 24-hour fitness."

"Oh, honey, when you're a field agent, those two are basically the same thing," you said. "I grew up with it, though, so I don't know what it's like going from no exercise to SHIELD workouts 24/7."

"It's called relative strength training, starting with the basics," Ward continued. "And next time, you do 15 push-ups for every minute you're late."

"You're a lot nicer than I was to my students. I made them run the whole workout twice if they were late," you commented.

"See, Skye, I told you that you were getting the better deal training with me than with (Y/N). She's a lot meaner than she'd like you to believe."

"Fine, Mr. Fun Machine. At least push-ups are better than pull-ups," Skye spat. "I don't ever want to do another pull-up again."

"You find yourself hanging off the edge of a building twenty stories up, you're gonna want to do at least one," Ward said.

"I do three, then flip myself like I'm playing Super Smash Brothers. It's more effective than you would think," you advised.

"Stand here. Jab cross, like this," Ward said, throwing a couple of punches at the bag to demonstrate. He then moved Skye to the same spot and positioned her arms. "10 minutes."

Skye threw a couple of lousy punches before Ward interrupted her.

"You know the hardest part about boxing?" he asked.

"Getting punched in the face?" Skye ventured sarcastically.

"Keeping your hands up," Ward corrected.

"I wholeheartedly agree with that," you nodded. "Getting punched in the face sucks, but if you have your hands up, then you can just hit 'em right back. If you don't, you just keep yourself open for more punches to the face."

"Why do I even have to do this?" Skye complained. "I'm sure Fitz-Simmons' supervising officer didn't make them do this muscle stuff."

"You said you wanted to be a field agent, like the Coulsons. Well, if you'd like to switch disciplines..." Ward trailed off, glancing over at the quirky scientists in the lab. "Hey, Simmons. What did your SO give you guys for morning drills?"

"Oh, atomistic attribute drills," she answered eagerly. "Yeah, we'd name the mechanical, chemical, thermal, and—"

"Electrical properties of materials," Fitz finished.

"Okay, okay. They made your point," Skye conceded unenthusiastically with a wimpy slap against the bag.

"There will come a moment when you have to commit to this or bail," Ward lectured, holding the bag in place as Skye half-heartedly attacked the bag. "Every field agent has a defining moment—ask either one of the Coulsons—when you have to make the hard call to either dedicate yourself to this or to curl up in a ball and run."

"How can you run if you're curled up in a ball?" Skye joked.

"She makes a fair point," you shrugged, "but I think it's more your mental state that's curled up in a ball. You might be running, but in your mind, you're scared to death, curled up in the fetal position."

"Thank you for clarifying, (Y/N). Skye, it's my job as your SO to make sure you don't die before you get to that defining moment," Ward said, readjusting Skye's wrapped fists. "Come on."

"So what was yours, Agent Ward?" Skye asked, beginning her workout.

"Ten minutes," he deflected.

"Your defining moment?" she pressed. Ward remained silent. "Come on, tell me, I want to know. I could get Coulson to give you some of that truth serum. You could spill your little heart out to me again."

"You mean my level one overshare that miraculously got you to cooperate?" Ward scoffed. "I hate to tell you this, rookie, but we don't have a truth serum."

"False," you muttered quietly so Ward and Skye couldn't hear you.

May's voice came over the intercom out of nowhere. "Changing course, briefing in three."

"Ah, looks like we're on the move," Fitz commented excitedly, shedding his lab coat and moving towards the stairs.

"SHIELD 616 with new orders. Set for Colorado airfield North," May continued.

As she unwrapped her fists, Skye approached you. "We do have a truth serum, right?" she questioned.

"Unfortunately, that's classified," you replied. "I would tell you if I could, but that's Level 4 clearance, and you're not even Level 1, so...yeah. Sorry."

"Are you really?"

"I mean, kinda sorry, I guess. I really would tell you if I could," you shrugged, smiling apologetically.

"Thanks, (Y/N), that means a lot," Skye said sarcastically.

As you entered the main cabin, your father started the briefing, tablet in hand. Fitz and Simmons were already sitting together on one of the couches, and Ward was looking to snag the far chair. Skye decided to take the closer chair, so you decided to sit on the armrest of the couch, exactly the way your father hated you to sit.

"A few minutes ago, a SHIELD transport was attacked while carrying a Priority Red protected asset off Route 76 near Sterling," Phil began. He looked up and noticed the way you were sitting on the couch, then motioned with his hand for you to sit on the couch properly. You begrudgingly obliged.

"Priority Red?" Simmons asked.

"The asset was Canadian physicist Dr. Franklin Hall, known for his work—"

Both of the scientists sat up straight at this news. "Oh, no, not Frank," Simmons worried.

"Dr. Hall? He was our chemical kinetics adviser our second year," Fitz piped up.

"Yeah, he's so enthusiastic about science, we just adored him," Simmons recalled. "We can rescue him, can't we?"

"He's one of ours. We're gonna try," your father assured them.

"And the attackers?" Ward brought the focus back. You noticed that he had decided to remain standing.

"Invisible."

"Wait, invisible? Cool!" Skye giggled. Ward shot her a glare, and she corrected herself. "But terrible."

"I feel like that describes pretty much everything we deal with at SHIELD," you noted. "Cool but terrible."

—

"Dr. Hall was an asset?" Skye asked later. The team had arrived in Sterling, Colorado after sundown and had decided to check out the scene before talking to one of the agents that had been tasked with transporting Dr. Hall.

"One of a few select scientists SHIELD has been protecting, people our enemies would love to get their hands on," your father expounded. "We keep them hidden, keep them on the move."

"Which is why Fitz and I were so lucky to have him," Simmons added. Fitz nodded in agreement.

"We don't have him anymore," Phil said.

"Hope we can get him back quickly," you responded solemnly.

"And what does Priority Red mean?" Skye continued.

"It means security should have been—" You tapped your father's arm, interrupting him. You pointed to a truck nestled in the trees up above you. "—heavy."

After waiting for another few minutes, a clean-up crew arrived, along with the driver agent. He had received very minimal first aid so far, with only some gauze pressed over his bleeding forehead.

"Evening, Agent," you began as cheerfully as you could.

"Little Coulson," the driver greeted you with half a grin. "Boy, y'all really know how to make a guy feel at ease after a long, terrible day. How've you been, girlie?"

"Probably a lot better than you," you remarked lightheartedly, pointedly glancing at his injuries.

"I'm not going to fight you on that," he chuckled.

"What can you tell us about the incident?" your father interjected, cutting your conversation short so as to get to the point.

The driver looked at the ground, shaking his head. "It was pretty dang scary, and I don't spook easily, boss," he began.

"Nothing in the air from above?" May questioned.

"Nothing over our shoulder. But what's scary is they knew our route. They were waiting for us," he emphasized.

"Are you saying they were working with somebody inside SHIELD?" the elder Coulson said, clearly not wanting to believe it could be true.

"Sorry to say...it had to be," the driver confirmed, shaking his head once again.

"Fitz, what am I seeing here?" Simmons asked her partner loudly, summoning him to where she stood. She and Fitz have been searching the site for anything abnormal.

"Well, I'm not wearing the full-spectrum goggles I designed, so no clue," he retorted. Skye followed him to see what Simmons had. "Let me have a look. Come on."

"No, whoa, whoa, whoa! Wait!" Simmons protested as Fitz made a grab for his equipment. "Don't move. Wait a second." She picked up some loose dirt and threw it in front of her. Instead of falling to the ground, it was picked up by some invisible force and spun around like a dust devil that wouldn't settle. The sudden movement caught your eye, and you, your father, and May moved over to see what was going on.

"What the heck?" Skye said, voicing everyone else's thoughts.

"I think the electro-static field scanner activated some...thing," Simmons observed. Suddenly, the dust devil expanded, nearly throwing dirt in your eyes.

"Okay, can we deactivate it? Now?" your father requested, remaining calm. Simmons hit a few buttons, but that only made it worse.

"You have to increase the density!" Fitz exclaimed, taking the controller from Simmons.

"I tried, Fitz, but—"

The controller shorted out, allowing the dust devil to finally settle.

Simmons bent down, picking up a very small strange gyroscopic ball with some tweezers. "That did all this," she stated.

"What is that?" Skye asked as Simmons handed the little ball to your father.

"Something big," he said grimly as he squinted at it.

You sighed. "Could you try to be a little more dramatic, please?"


	13. Cheating Cowboy Got Cheated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You know, I'm from Colorado, and on one hand, I don't like that they pronounced it ColoRAHDo on the show rather than ColoRADo like God intended, but on the other, I'm glad that they represented another part of Colorado than Denver

"Either someone cracked our comm system, or Dr. Hall's movements leaked from inside SHIELD," Phil stated solemnly as everyone in the lab watched Fitz and Simmons examine the tiny device.

"You really think we have a mole?" May asked.

"I think you should go through the communication logs, rule it out," he suggested. "We'll work the tractor tread that we found on the scene."

"I can do that instead of pull-ups," Skye volunteered.

"Alongside your pull-ups," you corrected.

Skye glared at you, then continued. "I can upload an image of the tread pattern, check to see if there's any sort of--"

"Already done," Ward cut her off. "Matched it to a 2010 model. Found a list of purchasers within a 500-mile radius, narrowed down to those with priors, financial troubles, or propensity for risk-taking." He tapped some buttons and put pictures of three men up onto the screen. "Three suspects."

"Who may have sold their construction equipment to the kidnappers," Phil concluded. "We'll ask."

"And intimidate, if necessary," you added.

Ward turned off the screen and left, satisfied with his recognition. You and your father were about to follow him out the lab doors, but Skye stopped you.

"Hey, so, Ward said a funny thing," she began. "He said that you guys don't have a truth serum."

"Did he? Ward said that?" your father asked, a noncommittal smile resting on his face.

"Yeah," Skye confirmed.

"Interesting," he shrugged, turning away and making his way out of the lab.

"Yeah. Hey, wait--" she protested his exit, but then was interrupted by May handing her a huge binder full of paper.

Skye gave her a look. "Do you want me to bench press this?" she questioned.

"Read it," May ordered. "Every communication out of HQ since they decided to transfer Dr. Hall." She walked away, too.

"Hang in there, Doc. It's gonna be a while," Skye grumbled to herself.

"Hey, I'll take half," you offered.

"Are you for real?"

"Hey, why not? I don't have anything better to do until we get to the first guy. Let's take these upstairs so we have somewhere comfortable to read."

\--

Your first excursion took you about 450 miles southwest to a little town called Barnroof Point, Colorado. One of the suspects owned a bit of property there, so you, Ward, and your father took a little trip in Lola to try and find the guy. After Ward was safely out of sight (in order to appear friendlier, it was decided that he should not be in the picture), you began to wait for the suspect to show up.

Sure enough, after not too long, he did, on horseback.

"Excuse me," your father began cordially.

"Who the heck are you?" the suspect asked not quite as cordially, slowing his horse.

"A concerned citizen who happens to be a member of a giant bureaucratic organization that's tracking your every move," Phil responded casually.

The suspect lifted a hand innocently. "I haven't done anything wrong," he said.

"We weren't suggesting that at all," you replied.

"Of course not, but you sold your excavator to some people who did," Phil continued, removing his trademark aviators. "And you're hiding out here until things cool down because you know it. We just want to know who paid you."

The man pulled his rifle from his saddlebag and cocked it, aiming it between you and your father. "Paid me enough not to answer any questions like that."

Ward emerged from his hiding place and pulled the man down from his horse using the rifle, stealing it from him in the process. He cocked it again and commented, "Feels like the Old West."

The suspect put his hands up, looking rather like a scared animal on its back. "They gave me money for my equipment. That's all. I never saw a face. I never heard a name," he claimed.

"And how did you receive this money?" Phil asked.

"They write you a check?" Ward followed up.

The man grimaced, then pointed to his saddlebag. Ward grabbed it by the bottom and shook out the contents, which were several rough bars of gold.

"Paid you in gold?" your father asked incredulously.

"Now it really feels like the Old West," Ward said.

"Not to get too stereotypical here, but we are in Colorado," you pointed out.

\--

Back on the plane, Simmons was examining the gold in the lab. "It looks like this because it's a doré bar," she explained, referring to the rough shape of the gold. "It means it was made at the mine rather than in a refinery. It's only about 92% pure. The cowboy got cheated a bit."

"I shouldn't find that as satisfying as I do," you sighed.

"Can you determine the mine based on the impurities?" Phil asked.

"Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah. We've done that already," Fitz affirmed, walking over to a monitor. "It's from the--" he pressed a button-- "Dacey mine in Tanzania, which is owned by--"

"Quinn Worldwide," your father cut him off. "I'm sure you studied the C.E.O. in your chemical engineering classes or saw him on the cover of Forbes. Ian Quinn." He left the lab in a rush.

"It's not exactly an exaggeration when you call him a drama queen, is it?" Simmons commented.

"Oh, Jemma, you have no idea how dramatic he can be when he gets himself in the mood," you giggled. "Just ask Ward how he first met my dad."

"We've heard the story, but you know what else we've heard?" Fitz baited you.

"What?" The scientists didn't answer you but instead exchanged amused glances. "What have you heard?" you urged them.

Simmons finally spoke. "We've heard you're even worse," she said.

Your eyes widened and a grin split your face. "Are you serious? Who said that?" you questioned.

"Well, before we joined our little team here, we met some people you trained back when you first joined SHIELD," Fitz began.

"They had a few stories to tell us about how you liked to run your classes," Simmons followed.

"Oh boy," you said, pulling up a stool and setting your elbows on the table. "Who did you run into, exactly?"

"Why do you ask? Are you embarrassed by what we might have heard?" she pressed playfully.

"Oh, not at all. I stand by all of my teaching methods," you said. "I'm just curious, is all."

"A brother and a sister, I think? A couple of years apart, too," Fitz listed. "I don't remember any names though. Jemma?"

"Something about fish? Guppy? Minnow?" she tried.

"Herring!" you exclaimed. "Anna and Mark!"

"Sure, them," Jemma agreed. "They told us--"

"You gave them new scenarios every class--"

"And made them roleplay along with you as you taught them," she finished.

They looked expectantly at you for confirmation. When you gave them nothing but a smile not unlike your father's trademark neutral grin, Fitz encouraged you, "Well? Is it true or not?"

You took a slow breath and then answered in the same manner, "I am very tempted to say 'that's classified' and move on with it."

The dorky little duo exploded in protests.

"You can't just--"

"Oh come on, it's not like--"

"--lead us on like that and--"

"--it's essential to SHIELD security!"

"--give us nothing!"

"It's just a little insight into how--"

"We'll find out one way or another--"

"Yes, it's true."

"--to effectively train someone."

"--you involved or no."

You had given your answer amid their complaining, but they didn't realize that you had spoken until it was too late. You shrugged and walked out of the lab, heading upstairs to work more with Skye on reading through the transcripts.

"Wait, what did you say?" Fitz called after you, to no response. "You definitely said something, don't pretend like you didn't! Jemma, did you catch what she said?"

"No, I didn't," she admitted, "but I think that we did prove something."

"Indeed. She is, in fact, worse than her dad."


	14. Not Everyone's a Battlefield

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I think it's friendship magic time again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry guys we've caught up to where I'm actually at in writing and it may very well be a few weeks before I update again

"Gravitonium," Fitz stated. "It's an extremely rare high-atomic numbered element. That powers the device. It's so extremely rare that most people didn't believe it existed, much less the theory that an isolated positive charge—"

"—would turn the flow from isotropic—" Simmons continued.

"Guys, high-school dropout here," Skye reminded them.

"And someone with zero Ph.D.'s or any college experience, for that matter," you added.

"How does the device work again?" Skye asked.

"Well, Gravitonium distorts gravity fields within itself, causing an undulating, amorphous shape," Jemma explained, using slightly more understandable words.

"Which causes these, um wiggly bits here," Fitz continued, clearly struggling to use everyday language. To make up, he began demonstrating what he meant with his hands. "But when an electric current is applied, the Gravitonium solidifies. And those gravity fields erupt, randomly changing the rules of gravity around it. Well, so, now you can imagine what would happen to a big rig at 100 kilometers per hour. Or, uh, well, you could just remember, 'cause we saw it already, didn't we?"

"Yeah, and guess which genius published every theory about Gravitonium and possible applications years ago?" Simmons asked, much like a teacher.

"Dr. Franklin Hall," Skye answered.

"Correct," Fitz affirmed. "And Dr. Hall attended the University of Cambridge at the same time as Ian Quinn."

"Have you two ever considered teaching together?" you questioned, half serious. "You'd be good at it."

"Um, thank you, but we haven't, no," Simmons said.

"Okay, this all lines up, but I think Coulson may be off on this," Skye expressed. "Quinn is a notoriously good guy. His charity endowment's something like eight billion dollars."

"Yes, with money made from leeching the earth of its resources," Simmons pointed out. "Looks like he's dug up another."

\--

"The man's a prisoner, and it's up to us to get him out," your father stated.

Everyone was wandering around the living space of the Bus, pondering the best way to go about this. You sat in a chair, your chin resting in your hand, watching Skye as she leaned up against a wall.

"We've checked the specs. There's no way into Quinn's compound without a large SHIELD strike force or a man inside," Ward argued. "He's got neodymium laser fencing surrounding the property."

"They'll never allow a strike force into Malta," Phil pointed out. "Plus, this weekend, Quinn worldwide's got its annual shareholders gathering. We'd risk global outrage, but--"

"If we go in alone--" May began.

"SHIELD can disavow us, claim ignorance," he concluded.

"Without a man inside, it's impossible, unless you're immune to pulse laser emissions," May said.

"I feel like we should already have some tech for that, but I searched it and came up with nothing," you added.

"If we had a monkey, we could get in," Fitz interjected seriously.

"Ugh, Fitz!" Simmons groaned, throwing her hand into the air.

"If we had a small monkey, he could slip through the sensors and disable the fence's power source with his adorable little hands," he continued nonetheless.

"I could go in," Skye said, barely looking up from her phone.

"Now there's an idea," you agreed, understanding exactly what she meant in an instant.

"Drop me in the hills outside of Valletta," Ward said, ignoring his trainee. "I'll spend a few weeks establishing a cover, gathering intel--"

"Hall doesn't have a few weeks," Phil interrupted.

"And to restate, any Agent of SHIELD caught on Maltese soil can be shot to death with bullets," Simmons recited.

"Yeah," Fitz agreed.

"Legally."

"What else would they shoot us with?" you asked. "Blasters from the Star Wars set?"

"Actually, that kind of tech is far--"

"Not me. I could go in," Skye offered once again, this time putting down her phone and advancing towards the rest of the group.

"Skye, this is serious," Ward dismissed her patronizingly.

"She is being serious," you said.

"Wait," your father said, approaching Skye. "What are you saying?"

"Well, I'm not an Agent of SHIELD, so I can go in without breaking all these stupid rules," she stated simply, returning to typing on her phone.

"International laws," Simmons corrected.

"This isn't something the Rising Tide can hack, Skye," Ward tried to shoot her down.

"Will you shut up and listen to her?" you demanded. "She has a point." Of course, no one bothered to listen.

"Did you hear the deadly lasers part?" Fitz worried, pressing his fingers to the sides of his head. "Without a brave monkey--"

"You said you could go in with a man inside," Skye said.

"And you want to be that man?" May asked.

"Woman, but okay," you shrugged.

Skye shrugged as well. "Fitz-Simmons loved the guy, and he needs help. They could be torturing him, or worse," she made pointed eye contact with Ward before typing some more on her phone, "making him do strength-training."

"But you don't have the background or clearance or experience with any of this," Ward argued frustratedly.

"I know," she said, showing off what she had been pulling up on her phone. "But I've got an invitation."

"Like I said, she's got a point," you reiterated.

"Well, technically, it's an e-vite," Skye smirked.

\--

"I understand your concern, but we don't have a lot of options," your father told Ward honestly, sitting back behind his desk.

"Hey, I'm impressed," Ward admitted. "She just wrangled an invitation on her phone using insider back-channel voodoo in minutes. But sending her in with no training, you're taking a huge risk."

"That's kind of what SHIELD is about, isn't' it?" you asked from your place in one of the swivel chairs. "If we don't take risks, then more often than not, more people get hurt than would have been in the first place."

Ward sighed. "I know Director Fury felt he owed you after you sacrificed yourself--"

"And my card collection," Phil sniffed. You grunted angrily in agreement.

"--and after he let your daughter believe that you were dead. He gave you some autonomy, but Skye on a covert op?"

"Are you worried about her safety or her loyalty?" the elder Coulson questioned.

"Both," Ward said. "The Rising Tide is the reason she got an invite. Who knows how many protocols she violated?"

"That's her job," Phil reminded him. "Ignore protocol, find connections and backdoors that nobody else can see. Something else is bothering you."

Ward paused. "She's holding back, sir. She says she wants to be an Agent, but she won't commit. She doesn't listen, makes jokes."

"Believe it or not, Agent Ward, some people are just like that," you said. "You've held a conversation with me before, and Skye really isn't all that much different."

"You have a cause you're fighting for with us. That's the difference between you and Skye; you really believe in SHIELD and what it works toward," Ward said. "I don't know how to give her that cause."

"Were you hard on her?" Phil asked.

"Sure. I tried playing nice, too," Ward said. "I need a new strategy."

"Try no strategy," your father shrugged.

"Not all people are battlefields," you added.

"Stop thinking like an operative, start thinking like a person. Maybe Skye will let that person help her."

"Help her what?" he asked.

"Help her think like an operative."

"And leave the cause-giving to me," you smiled.


	15. Improv

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's true. All of it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I run purely off of The Cranberries and hot chocolate

“Getting the gun is one thing. Pulling the trigger that is another,” Ward chastised Skye, sounding annoyed. He pulled the plastic gun out of her hand and aimed it at her. “Now, again, slowly, what's first?”

“Hate to break up this lovely little display of affection, but we need you both up here,” you said. “They’ve got a plan, and we’re right about ready to start.”

“Give us a minute here,” Ward demanded, his glare still fixed on Skye. “She still needs to learn some basic self-defense.”

“You go up, and let me take this one,” you suggested. “We’ll be up in a couple of minutes.”

“Yeah, good luck with that,” he scoffed. He relaxed from his stance and walked over to meet you at the bottom of the stairwell. He handed you the practice gun, muttering to you, “I’ve been trying for half an hour, and all I’ve gotten is stubbornness.”

“Try being a person, remember?” you reminded him brightly. You and Skye watched him walk up the stairs and disappear into the main cabin. “Tough nut to crack, am I right?” you laughed to Skye, gesturing up toward the door with your thumb.

“I think I’m the tough nut here,” she sighed. “No matter what I do, I honestly don’t think he’ll ever be satisfied with me.”

“Ah, he just doesn’t know how to deal with newbies,” you shrugged. “Teaching is my favorite thing to do, and I’ve gotten pretty good at it if I do say so myself.”

“Teach away, O Young, Experienced One,” she said.

“I’m going to do my best,” you smiled. “Now, Skye, I need you to pretend like I’m a mafioso threatening you with this gun. You just be yourself in this scenario, and I’ll get into my character. Just play along, okay?”

“I’m sorry, what do you want me to do?” she asked in genuine confusion.

“We’ve told you several times, missy. Playing dumb ain’t gonna help you no more,” you answered with your worst New York accent, gesturing in a vaguely threatening manner with the hand you loosely held the fake gun in. Not giving her a chance to fully grasp what you were asking her to do was perfect for your teaching style; getting her confused, stressed, and a little scared helped to simulate what she would go through in a real situation.

“No, (Y/N), I’m serious, I don’t know what you want me to do,” she said earnestly.

“Hey, who told you you could call me (Y/N), huh? That’s Coulson to you,” you spat.

“There are two of you around here! It’d be hard to call you both Coulson.”

You relaxed your posture, dangling the practice gun lazily from your fingers. “She thinks she’s funny now, does she?” you scoffed. You chuckled cruelly, briefly turning your face and your attention from her.

She, amid her confusion and low levels of panic, saw her chance to get the gun from you. As she made her swipe, you swung around and aimed the gun directly at her face, her outstretched fingers just an inch from the barrel.

“She thinks she’s clever, too,” you said with a devilish smirk.

Skye was completely immobilized. Her mouth hung open as she retracted her arm at the pace of a child afraid to spook a beast.

“All out of words now?” you mocked her. “Good. Now do it.”

As you suspected, once put under pressure and given a little shove, her reflexes were lightning fast. She shot towards you so fast that you, as adept as you were, would barely have had time to react if you were really trying. She twisted your thumb, palmed the barrel, and was aiming your own gun at you with an adrenaline-drenched grin on her face in no time.

“Do what?” she questioned once more, aiming the gun in the direction of your chest.

“Steal the gun,” you finally answered, dropping your accent and character. “See, not so hard.”

She lowered the gun and relaxed her posture, taking deep breaths to calm herself. “Any chance you can get Ward to do something like that?”

You laughed and held your hand out to take the gun. “Not a chance. This is pure (Y/N) Coulson technique at work here.”

\--

“Skye will walk in the front door,” your father explained to the team, bringing up schematics on the screen in the subroom. “The only external access point to Quinn's underground facility is from a beach cove. A two-man extraction team could slip in there, but it's not easy. Fitz-Simmons.”

“The perimeter is surrounded by a 20-foot-high neodymium laser grid. Touch it and you're toast,” Fitz summed up.

“Yep, super dead,” you nodded.

“Dead toast,” Phil combined the two, shrugging. “The only way to disable the grid is to crack the system and trigger a reboot. This would give the team three seconds to cross. Of course, Quinn's too smart to allow any wireless access on his property.”

“That's where I come in,” Skye assumed.

“Yes,” Simmons confirmed, pulling a gadget out of a case. “Working compact holds up under x-ray.”

“Desert rose to match your complexion,” Fitz continued, showing off his makeup-like creation with pride. “But oh, what's this? A readout, okay?” Little square red lights blinked on the left side of the mirror until green lights on the right side took their place. “Turns green if you're in close enough proximity to a computer to gain wireless access.”

“When it does, you just drop this nearby and walk out. We'll do the rest. Easy as pie,” Simmons assured Skye.

“Or it will be--” Ward interjected, sounding threatening-- “if you stick to the plan.”

“Got it,” Skye nodded, looking dejected at Ward’s comment. “Plan, green, drop, walk...pie.”

“And we can find some real pie afterward for a celebration,” you grinned, placing your hand on Skye’s shoulder. “You’re gonna do great as long as your improv skills are better than a minute ago.”

Skye was smiling again, appreciating your faith in her. “My improv skills should be better as long as I have you and Fitz-Simmons whispering everything into my ear.”

“Line-callers, if you will,” you joked. “Here, sorry, I have to go make sure my dad remembers how to get ready for a field mission. It’s been a hot minute since the last time he went out.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s fine!” she said. “As long as he’s ready, I am, right?”

“Totally,” you agreed.

May had approached your father with a look of concern on her face, and you walked over to them to make sure nothing was seriously wrong.

“I don't want to question your orders, sir,” she stated.

“Good,” he replied with a little nod. He moved past her, making his way to his office.

“But I've already seen far more combat than I bargained for,” she continued, stopping him. “This two-man extraction team? It's exactly the kind of action I was hoping to avoid.”

“That's why you're not on it,” he said.

“We wouldn’t do that to you, Mindy,” you added.

“Specialist work is different from field work, believe me,” she emphasized, the look on her face more concerned than before. “When was the last time you--”

“Hall's one of ours, and he's in trouble,” your father said. “I need two men to get him out. Ward makes one. So that's why I'm going in. You forget I saw plenty of action with the Avengers.”

“And you died,” she argued.

“She makes a fair point,” you nodded. “How about I go instead?”

“I’d feel better about that,” May agreed.

Phil looked at you, a slight feeling of betrayal settling in his chest. “I thought you wanted to run support.”

“I did,” you shrugged. “Now that I really think about it, though, I’d probably be better on the extraction team. I haven’t gotten to show off in a while, and you might need an example of decent specialist work before you try it out again.”

“I taught you everything you know about specialist and field work; you don’t get to talk!” he protested. 

“And so the student surpasses the master,” you said cheekily.

A silent standoff between you and your father ensued, legendary blank smile meeting legendary blank smile.

“All right, team, suit up,” he gave in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey if you haven't noticed I'm a sucker for comments
> 
> so
> 
> what if you
> 
> left some


	16. Naiveté

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I've heard that Malta is gorgeous

“This could have been a traumatic experience for Dr. Hall. He may not be the same when you find him,” Phil warned the two of you over the comms. “(Y/N) will talk him down. We don't want your personality to set him on edge, Ward.”

“Great time for humor, sir,” he replied blandly. “My people skills are the least of our problems if Skye can't get us in.”

With one last tug, your raft was safely on the beach, tucked behind a rock.

“You still don’t have any faith in her,” you called Ward out. “How do you expect to be able to bond with her in a way that helps you to train her if you refuse to believe that she can do anything?”

“She’s gotta earn my trust, too,” he replied stiffly.

“That’s not what being a teacher is about. You know that, right?” you asked seriously. “In a teaching situation, you have to trust your student for them to trust you. If they break your trust, then that’s that, but you can’t start out without a little blind trust.”

“You suggest that I trust someone who could betray us at any moment?” He glared at you as you walked up the path to Quinn’s property.

You returned a glare with equal force. “No, I suggest that you trust your student.”

He said nothing, just sighed and shook his head as if he were dealing with an unreasonable toddler.

You kept your anger at his ineptitude down and instead promised yourself that you’d kick his butt sparring later. “When I was in middle school, I had a lot of trouble with math,” you stated.

“You’re not special.”

“Oh, you’re certainly not wrong. I hated math, just like every kid across the world is conditioned to. Something kind of miraculous happened in high school, though. I suddenly got really good at math, and I was pretty stoked honestly. The numbers and letters and Greek alphabet started making sense out of nowhere.”

“Lucky you.”

“Do you know why I got so good at math?”

“If it’s not crucial to our success here, I don’t think it really matters, does it?”

“It may not be crucial to the success of this mission, but it will be in any future missions where you have to put your trust in Skye.”

“You talk like there will be future missions.”

“Yes, because I trust her to do her part!” you exclaimed angrily. “Math started making sense because I wanted it to make sense. I couldn’t learn it until I wanted to, get it? You won’t be able to trust her until you want to.”

“I do want to trust her!”

“No, you don’t.”

“Oh, well, excuse me, Miss Goody-Two-Shoes, but trust doesn’t come so easily to all of us.”

“Just like math.”

He didn’t have a response, but that may have partially been because you rounded a corner on the trail to see a bright yellow warning sign. In an English translation below the warning in Maltese, the sign read, “Do not cross / Lethal radiation.”

Eyeing the sign and the seemingly clear trail ahead of you, you picked up a handful of dirt and tossed it forward. With a buzzing noise straight out of a video game, the laser grid glowed bright yellow and ate the destroyed the dirt. You and Ward exchanged a concerned glance.

“Next patrol any minute now,” he said.

“Skye's offline,” May reported urgently. “Repeat, we've lost audio and vitals.”

“No,” you murmured.

Ward gave you an exasperated look with a hint of “I told you so” and said, “Abort is not an option, but if she's compromising--”

“She's still our only way in to get to Dr. Hall,” your father interrupted him over the comms.

“And we're their only way out,” Ward accepted.

The sounds of soldiers’ feet crunching on the sandy trail preceded the “Beach is all clear. Let's move up the ridge.”

You retreated quickly behind a large bush, pulling Ward with you.

“Do you understand the plan or do I have to explain it to you?” you whispered.

“What do you think?” he spat quietly.

“I don’t know! I guess I just feel the need to treat you like you treat me.”

“I don’t treat you like a little kid.”

“I never said you did.”

“But you said you’re treating me the way I treat--” he all but gasped as he realized his error-- “oh my g--”

“You could have pled the fifth, man, but you decided to self-incriminate instead.”

“Listen here, you little--”

“Change of plans. You stay in the bush, and I’ll take care of the problem, understood?”

“No, we are a team and we make decisions--”

You stepped out from your hiding place as the guards became even with your position off the trail. The first guard in line raised his gun quickly as he heard the leaves of the bushes rustling as you made your appearance. You forced his arms down and punched him across his face, knocking him to the ground. The second guard tried to hit you, but you turned around just in time to catch his arm and twist it in just the wrong way and use his immobility to strike him as well. You caught the third guard with a sharp elbow to the face and a strong push down the hill, which sent him tumbling.

The first guard stood up and attempted to hit you, but you grabbed his arm and flipped him over your shoulder. He didn’t get up after that.

“Dang, a little rusty, I guess,” you sniffed, picking up the first guard’s gun and disarming it in a second. “Hey, speaking of rusty, how long does it take you to disarm a gun, Dad?” you asked, touching the ear your comm was in.

“I will have to find out,” he responded.

Ward looked at the three men and said, his teeth gritted, “I have to admit that wasn’t bad.”

“Not bad?” you chuckled. “Not exactly the words I’d pick. It wasn’t good, either. I haven’t really fought in a while and it shows.”

He kept looking at the fallen men and scratched the back of his neck. “Rusty,” he muttered, shaking his head.

“Hey, clock's ticking, guys,” you reminded the team back at the Bus. “Where's Skye?”

“We still don’t know,” Fitz worried. “She may have abandoned ship.”

“It wouldn’t surprise me,” Simmons agreed sullenly. “Quinn’s got a lot to offer.”

“Hey, so do we,” you argued. “I know you all think that she’s using us, but I can tell that she’s sincere about wanting to be with us.”

“You’re naive is what you are,” Ward growled.

“Maybe I am!” you yelled, frustrated with the baseless dislike that he’d had for you since you’d met. “I’m also significantly better at making friends than you are.”

“We’re in!” May exclaimed.

“She’s done it!” Jemma followed excitedly.

You crossed your arms and gave Ward a smug look. “Freaking told you,” you gloated.

“Fitz, you’re up,” May told the scientist.

“Oh, mother of all things,” he mumbled to himself. “Move, move, move!”

“We have a man down,” a voice came loudly from one of the soldiers' walkie talkies. “Hostiles on the east ridge!”

Your eyes widened and it was Ward’s turn to try to pull you into the bushes as gunfire came from more soldiers downhill. The bullets disintegrated when they hit the laser grid behind you.

“We need a reset here, Fitz!” you called.

“Fitz!” your father pushed.

“Fitz!” you repeated, pulling your gun from its holster as you looked for a target to shoot.

“Saying his name repeatedly does not increase productivity!” Simmons stressed.

“Okay, go!” Fitz said.

The grid dropped and you dashed across the border, but Ward stood still, firing back at the enemy.

“Or maybe it does,” she resigned, impressed with her friend’s speed.

“System rebooting in two, one, now!”

Ward dove over the border just as Fitz said “now.”

“Cutting it close for no reason,” you teased him, helping him to his feet. “Love that.”

He paid you no mind, instead starting to jog down the path to Quinn’s estate. He seemed pretty set on not speaking to you, so you obliged him.

When the mansion came into view, you told Ward, “I'll look for Dr. Hall down in the lab.”

“I'll get Skye,” Ward said.

You split up at the swimming pool. Remembering the basics on where you had to go, you headed towards the mansion.

“Remind me where to go next?” you requested of your father.

“You’re heading in the right direction,” he assured you. “There’ll be a door coming up in about twenty feet.”

“It’s so nice having an audial Marauder’s Map,” you joked.

“I know just as well as you do that you’d get lost without me.”

“I will certainly not deny that,” you chuckled. “Found the door, now what?”

“Head down the stairs on the left until you get to a door that looks like it belongs in front of a lab.”

“Shouldn’t be too hard to spot.” You hurried down the stairs until a door that looked like it very much belonged in front of a lab came into your view. “Found it,” you said.

You opened the door and entered quickly upon seeing Dr. Hall.

“Dr. Hall,” you called to him, quickly approaching him before introducing yourself, “Agent Coulson. We have an exit strategy.”

“SHIELD?” he asked.

“Yes, sir,” you confirmed, walking back towards the door. “Let's get you out of here.”

“I'm sorry, Miss Coulson. I'm right where I'm supposed to be,” he said.

You froze, looking at him with your eyebrows raised. “I'll be honest, our strategy did not take into consideration you saying that.”

“I’m sure it didn’t,” he said, shaking his head and smiling.

You moved to stand in between Dr. Hall’s control table and what you assumed to be the gravitonium. It was huge, at least twelve feet across. The surface was silvery and undulating like it was in turbulent zero-gravity.

“Look, I don't know what Quinn is promising you, but--”

“An opportunity,” Hall interrupted you earnestly.

You looked at the gravitonium as it began to solidify under the electric currents of the ring spinning around it. “We can't let Quinn have control of this, sir, it's too dangerous.”

“We can't let anyone have control of this,” he agreed passionately. “That's why I'm here.” To bury it at the bottom of the ocean, with him.” He pressed more buttons on the control table and the spinning rings gathered more and more speed.

“(Y/N),” May grabbed your attention, “The leak came from--”

“Dr. Hall. Yeah, I'm kinda getting that,” you replied, staring at the gravitonium.

“All the petitions, embargoes in the world couldn't stop Ian,” Hall explained. “He grows more powerful every day. And then I get word he's found this.”

Another wave of electricity from the rings zapped the gravitonium and it visibly solidified, releasing a shockwave that nearly knocked you off your feet.

“I'm sorry, Miss Coulson. I had to make a choice.” He made one more adjustment on the control board and the insides of every cupboard in the lab spilled out.

You responded nervously, “Something tells me that wasn't the "off" button!”

One last shockwave jerked you violently to the left side of the room where you slammed into a metal filing cabinet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So bad news. 
> 
> My family is canceling Netflix at the end of April because of rising prices. Unfortunately, this means that I won't have access to Agents of SHIELD anymore. I'm going to try to get one more chapter out before the end of the month, but I'm starting a new semester of college, so I don't know if that'll be possible.
> 
> So yes. I'll be going on hiatus for an indeterminate amount of time.
> 
> There's a face reveal on my Tumblr and Wattpad (babycoulson and dumbledavisjr respectively) to cheer you up?


	17. The Asset

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy we knew nothing about gravitonium lol

How long had you been out?

You woke with a gasp, a sharp pain in your head. Quickly taking in your surroundings, you could see that you were on the floor behind an overturned desk. There was blood on your forehead.

“Guys, we need to talk,” you said, touching your comm as you tried and failed to sit up.

“(Y/N), thank goodness,” your father sighed in relief.

“Lost you for a minute,” May acknowledged calmly. “We're aware of the problem, (Y/N). Hall wanted Quinn to kidnap him?”

“Yeah, why would he do that?” questioned Fitz.

“What is wrong with him?” Simmons added.

“Quinn built a gravity generator, like the one we found but bigger,” you reported, still attempting to get up. “Hall knew Quinn would need him to control its raw power, but Hall just wanted to unleash it.”

“The one we found was 2.5 centimeters in diameter. It stopped a semi. How big are we talking?” Simmons worried.

“12 feet. It’ll definitely take down the entire compound.” You grunted in pain as you finally managed to get onto your knees.

“No, it'll do more than that,” Fitz said.

“It'll sink the place!” Simmons exclaimed.

“Work a solution,” your father pushed them.

“I'll disconnect the power before things get--” you managed to stand up and were rendered speechless at what you saw beyond the overturned desk-- “crazy.”

You were standing on the ceiling.

You were standing on the freaking ceiling.

You were standing on the ceiling, gravity holding you just as stable as if it were the floor.

“They can't help you. Soon, it'll reach an exponential acceleration state,” Dr. Hall told you as you gawked at your situation. “I'm sorry.”

“My team's here,” you related. “Good people.”

“Sworn to protect all mankind?” he guessed, uncorking a bottle of some alcohol. “That's what I'm doing, I promise. I’m making things right.” He poured the alcohol into a cup, but the unstable gravitational fields made the liquid travel a much more horizontal path than what would have been expected. He smiled and gave a slight chuckle before raising his glass towards you and taking a sip.

The field shifted again, destabilizing you and knocking you to the ground. Hall managed to stay on his feet, barely spilling any of his drink as the cabinets around you dumped their contents.

“How?” you asked him, pouring emotion into your voice to try to get him to sympathize with you. “Why?”

He picked up your gun that had fallen out of its holster, aiming it at you as you made it to your feet again.

“All I had to do to get access to Quinn's lab was drop little clues, create a puzzle for him to solve,” he explained. “Quinn likes to feel smart.”

“So you leaked your location. Why not try reasoning with him?”

“You can't reason with an addict, and he's addicted to exploiting opportunities. He never gives a thought to the friends, ecosystems, future generations left ruined in his wake.”

“Like me? Like Agents Fitz and Simmons, your former students?” you reminded him. He looked away from you, processing what you were implying before you got a chance to say it. “I've got them in my ear right now, telling me you're not a bad guy. We could've worked with you on this.”

Once again, a wave of gravity knocked you onto your side, denting the filing cabinet next to you.

“Oh, with SHIELD? SHIELD is just as guilty of the same thing!” he exclaimed angrily. “Experimentation without thought of consequence! Your search for an unlimited power source brought an alien invasion.”

“Fair point,” you acknowledged.

Hall was finally knocked to his knees by another wave of force.

“This element is far too powerful for you, for him, for anyone!” he said passionately. He looked down at you, barely able to get up on your feet in the shifting gravity. “I don't have to tell you that. You're feeling it now.”

The gravitonium released one more wave, finally destabilizing Hall enough to get him down. He dropped the gun, and it skittered over to you.

“Clearly,” you grunted, picking your up your gun and standing shakily.

“I see the future, Miss Coulson,” he sighed, “and it's a catastrophe.”

“I just see a lot of people in trouble,” you said earnestly. You jumped up and pulled a power cable down and disconnected it.

The gravitonium kept spinning and solidifying as if nothing had happened.

You looked down at the cord in your hand, making sure you had actually done something and not imagined it. “Nothing,” you reported. “Fitz-Simmons? I tried to cut the power. It's still going.”

“Find a catalyst,” Fitz said.

“You need to find a catalyst,” Simmons agreed, “Something to create a chemical reaction in the core.”

You faced Hall again in desperation. “It's not too late to do the right thing,” you invited him. “Help me find a catalyst--”

“I am doing the right thing!” he argued, stepping closer to you. “A completely selfless act. I know that history never celebrates what didn't happen. They'll call this a--a tragedy. They won't understand the good I did here.”

“Killing innocent people?” you accused him, raising your gun. Through the window in the door, you saw Skye, with inexplicably wet hair, standing next to Ward.

“Saving millions,” he countered. “We have to live with the choices we make, but sometimes we have to die with them, too.”

You nodded, lowering your gun. “I understand. You made a hard call.”

Hall nodded too, a small smile forming on his face. “Yes.”

“And now I have to make mine.”

Both you and Hall were standing on the glass above the gravitonium, and you knew what you had to do. You shot your gun downward.

The glass cracked and shattered beneath your feet, and you jumped at the very last second to grab some sturdier cords than the power cord you had ripped out earlier.

Hall fell down and towards the gravitonium. He fell through the gyrating rings. The look of horror on his face intensified as he hit the gravitonium and was absorbed into it. His arms were outstretched and reaching towards you as if begging for help. It was impossible for you to provide any now.

With the power cut and the gravitonium back to its normal undulating, amorphous shape, gravity returned to normal and you fell to the floor, hitting your head on the control table on your way down in true (Y/N) Coulson fashion.

Skye and Ward rushed in, helping you to your feet as you cradled your head.

“Every freaking time,” you complained.

“Did you go through some special training to do that?” Ward teased you.

“I’d be offended if I weren’t surprised that you just made a joke,” you chuckled.

“Don’t get used to it,” he grumbled.

\--

“Say it back to me,” Phil ordered the agent on the other side of the video call.

“Deepest level of the fridge, unmarked vault, no access granted,” he repeated.

“And no recorded entry,” Phil added. “I don't want it listed. I don't want it flagged for the slingshot. Anyone finds out, you're responsible and suffering. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

The call ended.

“That's what Hall would've wanted, right?”

“Absolutely,” you confirmed.

He stepped over to his desk and picked up his gun, turning it over in his hands. “Used to have this down,” he complained, trying to disarm the gun once more. “Should be just muscle memory.”

“I told you,” you jabbed playfully. “Rusty.”

“You're making a habit of it, sir,” May commented from the doorway to your father’s office.

“Trying,” he scoffed. “Guess I'm a little rusty.” He kept his focus on the gun, not looking at her.

“Of these close calls, I mean.”

“I’m partially to blame as well,” you interjected.

“But you’re not the one running these missions,” she pointed out. “I don't enjoy running back end.”

Phil finally turned to face her, looking her straight in the eyes. “You want off the plane? Go ahead.”

She stopped leaning on the door, taking a few steps toward your father. “I want in,” she stated, positioning herself with her hands behind her back. “Reporting for combat next time it's up.”

The look on Phil’s face was just as blank as ever. “You committed to the cause or just watching my back?”

“Same thing,” she snarked with a little smirk on her face. As she turned to walk out the door, she added, “And (Y/N)’s right. You are a little rusty.”

Your father allowed himself a little smile after she left. “Look at what you’ve started, (Y/N). Now everyone’s going to start teasing me.”

“You’re the one that signed onto parenthood,” you said. You pulled your own gun from its place on your waistband and looked your father unwaveringly in the eyes.

“Don’t,” he warned.

You tilted your head a bit to the side, giving him the trademarked Coulson smile.

“Do not,” he reiterated.

“What?” you asked. Within two seconds, you had the gun disarmed and sitting on his desk. “That?”

He sucked in a breath and crossed his arms over his chest. “That.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End of Season 1, Episode 3


End file.
